


La Muerte Súbita: Guilt Edition

by Kimyona_Sensei



Category: Youtube RPF, dan and phil, jacksepticeye, markiplier - Fandom
Genre: Background Relationships, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Gore, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sexual Content, Violent Content, games to real life, horror games, shameless self-insert, video games - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-30
Updated: 2019-07-30
Packaged: 2020-07-27 02:44:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 28,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20038624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kimyona_Sensei/pseuds/Kimyona_Sensei
Summary: It's back.The grand opening of a new gaming attraction brings four Youtuber's together, and tears them apart. Faced with horrors beyond their expectations, can they put aside their differences, overcome their anxieties, and come closer together in order to survive?





	1. The Email

Dear Youtuber,  
I’d like to offer you a chance to donate millions of dollars to your selected charities and to assist us in launching one of the biggest advances in gaming history. 

The recently finished Horror Emporium, La Muerte Subita, is holding a grand opening event, and we are extending a free invitation to be one of the first people to attempt this unique experience.  
This is an exclusive opportunity to film in a specialized environment, free of charge. All off the footage captured will be copyrighted to only you; and only streamed with explicit permission.

Upon agreement, all transport to and from your selected hotel will be arranged by the Horror Emporium; with no cost to you. There will also be a meeting before, and after the completion of the game, where food and drinks will be provided. All food during the day(s) spent at the Emporium will be provided free of charge, as well as unlimited water. 

The event starts on October, 3rd. If you choose to attend, please respond with your hotel location and any important information regarding health issues or allergies to any material or foods.  
We hope to work with you,  
CEO and founder, Hanayu E. Kimyona  
Executive of affairs, Nicole Siah


	2. Welcome to Washington

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It begins.  
Again.

Mark hadn't thought much about the email. It was a bit tacky, if anything, but it checked out once he and his team had looked into the company. That was three months ago; now, he's standing outside a boutique hotel in the middle of bum-fuck Egypt waiting to be picked up and driven to the venue. 

He pulls his phone out of his jacket pocket and checks the time; 7.18am.  
It's was too early to be outside, especially when it's -90 degrees outside!

The car that had arrived was an expensive SUV painted all black. It honks at him from down the ways and the driver’s side window rolls down to reveal a young man with honeyed brown skin and warm hazel eyes.  
"Good Morning, Mr. Fishbach!" he calls with a smile, pulling up to where he stood and unlocking the doors with a tell-tale whir.  
“Morning.” Mark says, opening the back door and climbing in. It's warm and he settles down into his seat and buckles himself and his bag.  
The man in the front rolls up the window and turns up the heat a little as he pulls out of the hotel's parking lot and onto the adjacent street with caution, fiddling with the radio until it played a quiet, relaxing jazz through the car. 

Lakewood Washington was freezing in late fall, and the early morning sky was slate grey with clouds. The road was dark with drying rain as the car drives from street to street. The driver is silent for most of the drive and Mark spends his time watching the scenery pass by his window: tall evergreen trees and vibrant green grass. Every so often, though, there's a small body of water where cranes and other birds gather. It's pleasant for so early in the morning. 

_ _

La Muerte Subita was a massive, concrete building surrounded by factories; industrial and looking abandoned from Mark's view out the window.  
There was a small group of people milling outside the front, standing behind metal barriers in scarves and beanies, made round and chubby with layers jackets and sweaters. They pull up to the front of the building, slowing to a gentle stop as the car shuts off.  
Mark unbuckles himself and zips his jacket up to his neck before snatching his bag climbing back out into the cold. 

He hadn’t packed heavy enough for this chill. 

The driver climbs out beside him, smiling as he closes Mark’s door;  
“Let's head inside. Nicole will get you all set up. Are you hungry at all? Should I find you some coffee? Breakfast?” he offers kindly, gesturing for Mark to follow him up to the sliding glass doors at the front of the building.  
“I’m alright for now,” he mutters, “Thanks.”

The driver only shrugs before pulling a lanyard from beneath his jacket and scanning the card attached, unlocking the door with a robotic click.  
Inside is a warm sitting area with a reception desk and fireplace. The crackling of the fire is relaxing, and the faint smell of wood makes for a homey feeling.  
He’s waved toward the sitting area;  
“Go ahead and take a seat, I’ll go find Nicole.” 

Mark sits in the warm reception room and inspects his cameras while he waits. There are a few different types, a couple extra batteries and chargers... He hadn’t really known what to bring to the Emporium. 

He wishes he had brought less. 

His bag was large, and angled, and uncomfortable when filled: usually he'd leave most of his equipment at home when he travelled, opting for a smaller camera or simply using his phone to capture little clips...

He packs his cameras away again, interrupted by the sound of clicking heals on the wooden floor. Chatting voices approach, and Mark spots the driver as he nods and heads off in a different direction.  
The woman walking towards him is tall, her tawny hair pulled up in a casual bun. She has a soft face, as she smiles at Mark. He stands up to greet her as she extends her hand to shake;  
“Hello, you must be Mr. Fishbach. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”  
Mark nods, her smaller hand firm in his.  
“Pleasures all mine. You must be Nicole.”  
“That’s me.” She confirms, turning to lead Mark back the way she came; “Come with me, I’ll take you back to the meeting room. We’ll go over all the details there. Can I get you any water? Coffee?”

Mark shakes his head and snatches up his bag to follow. 

The room at the end of the hallway is large, warm, and clean. There is a long wooden table and several leather chairs in the center and Nicole leaves Mark alone with a promise to return in five minutes. He primps his hair in the decorative mirror before returning to his seat.  
He wishes he had asked for some of that coffee now that he’s realizing the meeting may drag on longer than he had been thinking. 

The door opens slowly and a tall boy shuffles in, one hand gripping a large coffee cup, and the other holding his phone. Mark had sworn he had met this guy before, the curly brown hair and smattering of large freckles. He’s about to introduce himself when a cheery voice calls down the hallway and catches the brunette’s attention.  
“Dan, did you remember your medication?” someone asks from the opposite side of the door. Dan looks up at them, then realizes that Mark is in the room. They make awkward eye contact.  
“Hey man.” Mark offers, and Dan sort of waves. A head of black hair and a pair of blue eyes poke in the doorway.  
“Oh! Hello Mark!” Phil calls, stepping into the room and guiding himself and Dan down to sit together across from him. They begin to talk as Phil and Dan sip on their coffee, passing a few minutes in lighthearted banter. 

The trio is interrupted when the door opens again, revealing a shock of brown hair and another pair of blue eyes. The smaller man stops short as the door closes and breaks into a smile.  
“Dan! Phil! Mark!”  
It's a familiar accent. Jacks’s bright smile beaming as he heads over to take a seat near Mark.  
Each of them offer a greeting as he sets his coffee down on the table, followed by a few Danishes. The chat idly for a few minutes before Dan, who'd mostly stayed quiet, gets a faraway look in his eyes:  
“Do you think we’ll get hurt at all?”  
Phil turns to him in horror as Sean slowly lowers his coffee from his lips and Mark slows in his chewing of a pastry.  
Dan continues;  
“I mean, come on. The email said that it was an extreme environment; I’m just wondering how extreme…”  
They all lapse into silence. 

“Gentlemen.”  
All four of them look up to the door where Nicole stands.  
She offers them a smile;  
“I’d like to introduce the CEO of La Muerta Subita, Hanayu Kimyona.”  
A smaller figure steps out from behind her, holding a clipboard and a cup of coffee. They take a seat at the head of the table, taking a moment to raise the seat all the way to the limit with a straight face.  
“Good morning!” they announce, chipper.  
They all nod and offer polite greetings. 

“Welcome to the Horror Emporium! I’m glad you all accepted our invitation.” they straighten the papers on the desk distractedly, then motion to Nicole. She steps forward and passes out a set of papers to each of them as Hanayu continues talking;  
“This set of papers are all the details that we have to go through; most of them you will need to sign, but there's nothing in them that requires a lawyer present. We'll go over go over each of them and they’re purpose before you sign, and if there is an instance where you feel the need for professional advice, you're absolutely free to contact them. The goal is to know exactly what we’re doing and how it affects you before we head into the game.” 

_ _ 

It’s near eleven when the meeting lets out, and all four of the YouTuber’s are ushered into the back of the building where a kitchen and breakroom is set up for the staff. Each of them are welcomed to the salad bar and sandwich display before they're driven back to the hotel: the game wouldn't be starting until tomorrow  
Mark picks out a ham sandwich and one of the water bottles on the counter before settling down at one of the tables. It’s only a moment before Jack joins him, a sub in one hand and a cold bottle of lemonade in the other.  
“There’s a vending machine over there. Want something better to drink?” he offers, popping open the lid with a hiss. Mark shakes his head,  
“No thanks, man. I’m good.” He smiles.  
Jack just shrugs and tucks into his sandwich. 

Dan and Phil have settled a table away, and it seemed that they preferred to be alone.  
Not that it mattered to Mark.  
“What do you think about this whole thing?” Jack asks from across the table, mouth full of sandwich.  
Mark frowns;  
“It seems a whole lot more complicated than I had originally been thinking.” He admits.  
Jack nods in agreement.  
“I think we may have bitten off more than we can chew.”  
It’s true. After all, any attraction that has a waiver and suggests a lawyer must be something serious. Mark isn’t sure he made the best decision in coming here, even if it was a great way to fund his charity and film something new. His thoughts are interrupted by a laugh and a flippant “Try new things, right Phil!”  
He turns to see Dan filming on his phone, and the two laughing over their sandwich and a fancy salad.  
At least they were making the best of the situation...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I deleted this story the same day that Dan's coming out video was released. I was feeling some type of way and I wanted to honor him and his past and his situation. I've since decided that I'd like to keep this story up, or re-release it, I guess. 
> 
> I love Dan, and I love Phil. There is nothing in this story that is meant to be in anyway disrespectful of either of them, but it is a testament to my love for them. If my mind does change about this and the circumstances around it, I will remove it again.


	3. The Time Has Come

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The setup is complete: let the games begin.

Jack hadn’t slept so well the day of the event.  
He'd been awake until two in the morning perfecting his YouTube queue and spending too much time editing the last of his backup content on his laptop. It was still dark in the room when his alarm went off, and he smashed the phone on the bedside table with all the force he could muster at 7 am.  
He manages to slide out of the bed and into the shower, at least a touch more productive once the smell of shitty hotel coffee hit his nostrils and he had dried off and dressed himself. Jeans and sneakers seemed appropriate for running, and a dark tee-shirt to hide the sweat, if there was any. A quick blow-dry’s and a pair of earrings for the effect, and decides he’s as ready as he’s willing to be.  
He leaves the crappy coffee in the pot. 

After gathering his bag and stuffing an extra couple shirts and his camera inside, he trudges downstairs to nibble a bagel and find some real coffee before the car comes to pick him up.  
Mark slouching, half asleep and dead behind the eyes was not his first expectation upon entering the dining room of the hotel. He surveys the buffet before toasting a bagel as he prepares his coffee. Once his bagel is buttered and he secures a small helping of cream cheese, he shuffles over and sits himself across from Mark.  
“Morning.” he offers, taking a sip of his coffee.  
Mark blinks at him for a moment, then nods in greeting. He’ll take it.  
“I didn’t know we were staying in the same hotel.” he mutters, not sure if Mark is even listening.  
He isn’t, for a moment, but he nods again after a long pause.  
“Yeah, I figured we’d all gotten different hotels. Guess not.”  
Jack nods and starts munching on the warm bagel.  
“Did you eat yet?” he asks.  
Mark shakes his head.  
“I don’t think I want too. I don’t want to get sick later, I have no idea what to expect.”  
He can’t help but agree, and he’s a little glad when both he and Mark end up in the same car.  
He doesn’t want to go into this alone.

Both Dan and Phil are already in the waiting room when they arrive. There are fans already gathering outside, behind metal partitions and a few Emporium personnel handing out warm drinks and lighting outdoor heaters around the front. It’s nice to see their fans treated so well, and Jack tries to take as many fan photos as he can before he's ushered inside. It hadn’t been many, but he was glad to be out of the morning cold and in the warm reception room. The fire was crackling and burning bright, and the smell of espresso was wafting throughout the room. 

Behind the front counter was a black haired man with striking hazel eyes who called out to Mark with a wave and an offering of fresh espresso. Mark moved forward to greet him, and accepted two cups of frothing courage and brought one back to Jack where he stood just inside the door.  
“Here, man.” he says solemnly, “I think we’ll need it.”  
He takes the warm cup and just breathes it in. Savors it.  
“Thanks.”

There was a lot happening today, and it was starting soon.  
He didn’t think any of them would get a moment of peace for the rest of the day, so he was treasuring this small amount of time.  
At least he and Mark seemed to be getting along, it had been awhile since he had been part of the gang. A while since he had been at Marks side, an equal, almost a friend.  
He hopes, maybe at the end of this, they can be friends again. 

_ _ 

Nicole had come for them a while later, and she lead them down a set of low lit halls.  
Their first stop was a large medical room with a set of workout machines and a few computers. At the helm of the machinery sat a man, thin and smart in his black denim and button down shirt.  
He wore a lab coat and a set of stethoscope around his neck, completing the look of a professional TV doctor.  
“Hello, Doctor. These are your patients for today,” Nicole announces, catching the man’s attention,  
“This is Dan, Phil, Mark and Jack, they’ll be participating in the charity today. I leave them in your hands.”  
The man nods as Nicole gestures to each of them with their name before taking her leave. 

“Morning, gentlemen. My name is Darren and I’ll be assessing you today." the doctor says, eyes focused on the clipboard in his hands;  
"We want to be completely sure you can handle all the physical aspects of the game, so we have a few, non-invasive tests before we clear you to start."  
He instructs each of them to take off their shirt and sit on the stool in successive order, starting with Jack.  
The cold feeling of the stethoscope on his chest was unpleasant but short as the doctor scribbled some notes and motioned that he could put his shirt back on. 

It doesn't take long for all four of them to be cleared.

They're collected by Nicole and the same guy from earlier, this time without the amazing espresso. He greets Mark again before going to join the doctor at the back of the room. Jack watches as they step in close, shoulders brushing, and smiles bright as they talk in hushed voices.  
He nearly gets left behind, but Mark gently grasps his arm and leads him back out to the hallway where the rest of the group wait.  
Jack offers a quiet thank you as Mark lets him go.  
Mark assures him it’s no problem. He wants to believe it isn’t. He wants to believe they’re becoming friends again. He lets the moment pass and turns back to the group. 

Nicole leads them to a cold, concrete room in the back of the building, walls covered in small holes and the floor a dark carpet where they’re left wait for the game to start. All the boys cycled through the bathroom quickly then returning to wait out the preparation. They can faintly hear the fans screaming through the walls and it hypes them up a little as they remember the purpose of being here. 

The tension in the room thickens with every minute they wait, and it’s a sight for sore eyes when Hanayu walks in, strange contraptions in hand. 

“Hello again!” Hanayu greets, stepping in the room with a smile.  
They look more professional today, a white button-down polo tucked into a pair of dark denim high-waisted jeans and a pair of brogues so shiny Jack can’t take his eyes off them for a moment. They walk over to their little group and hand them each a belt-like things.  
“These are your monitors. They will communicate some basic information back to my crew as you move through the game. If one of you reaches critical levels of heart-rate, stress or anxiety, we will stop all personnel from contact with you until you recover, or extract you immediately.”  
She pauses to hold Jack's belt, gripping the metal bit in the center.  
“This part goes over your heart, under your shirt. Press it hard into the skin, until you feel a bit of tingling pain. That way we'll have a clear reading.” 

Hanayu motions for Jack to pull up his shirt, and he does. They press the metal into his chest, over his heart, and it does hurt a little before it sticks hard onto his skin. She then pulls one side of the cloth belt over his shoulder and the other across his stomach and pulls them together over the center of his back, securing them tightly. Once done, she lets him pull his shirt down; covering the device.  
It’s completely hidden under his shirt.  
“Neat.” he breathes.  
Hanayu nods decisively; “Alright, get them on! I’ll be back in a second, I’ve got one last thing to do!” 

Mark pulls up his shirt and attempts to stick the thing to his chest, and almost dropping it.  
He yelps out a curse and fumbles for it before Jack snatches it off the ground.  
“Want a little help?” he offers, holding out the device.  
Mark nods: “Yeah, please?”  
He steps in closer and sets the cold metal over Mark’s heart, resting his other hand on a broad shoulder. Mark’s muscles are firm and Jack feels them twitch under his fingers as he adds a little pressure,  
“Ready?”  
Mark chuckles breathily and nods.  
He presses the metal down hard and feels it adhere to the skin as Mark flinches slightly. Guilty, Jack hurries to tie the line and step away. Once Mark’s shirt is back down the taller man laughs a little and sings;  
“Septiplier away!”  
It’s quiet, but Jack hears it.  
It makes his face warm.

_ _

Soon Hanayu is back with Nicole in tow; and they each take one person out the door with them.  
Dan is led away, face tense in fear as Nicole takes him down a hallway.  
Mark is led away with a smile as Nicole returns for Phil, and Jack is left alone. He’s a little colder now that none of his companions are with him, and he suddenly wishes they had been able to say goodbye.  
Hanayu jogs into the room and smiles at him.  
“Let’s go!” They cheer, excited. He lets them lead him out of the room and into yet another hallway, down a flight of stairs through a glass door.  
He steps inside a glass box, lined with copper colored metal.  
“Alright, hold on.” Hanayu warns, closing the door and hooking it down, locking it tight.  
It isn’t until he watches them run back up the stairs that his stomach drops and he suddenly regrets this entire situation.


	4. The Indoor Forest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dan is not okay.

Dan wakes up on the ground.  
His eyes are heavy and blurry as if he'd fallen asleep with a cold and his limbs feel sluggish and weak.  
What happened?  
He remembers being led up a flight of stairs to a glass room, but he doesn’t remember anything after that. 

The distinct smell of damp soil and green jerks him back to reality and he fights for vision with a set of aggressive blinks. As his eyes start to clear, he can finally make out his surroundings and…  
Fuck.  
A forest was not where Dan was expecting to be. Forests weren’t in buildings; forests were outside. Far away from him.  
Well, they should be.  
Fuck.  
Dan feels his stomach tighten in fear as he surveys the sturdy trees and green grass around him. There are stars over his head and a chain-link fence to his back...  
Oh god, he hates trees. He hates forests. He hates the dark. 

The term “existential crisis” had nothing on the panic attack building in his chest. He attempts to breathe.  
An inhale, focusing on the exhale.  
It isn’t relaxing; it’s a long ragged breath that hitches on a sob.  
He presses his dirty hands into his eyes and holds back the hyperventilation. He’s on the verge of tears, whimpering to himself as he attempts to gain control. He wishes Phil was here. Phil always knows what to do…

The sound of rustling leaves startles Dan into action, and he flinches bodily as he frantically scans the surrounding area for any signs of life. To his left, he hears the crunch of a footstep and the sheer adrenaline has him scrambling to his feet and attempting to run. He feels his blood in his feet and stumbles, catching the fence and barely managing to keep himself from falling face first into the dirt.  
Fuck.

He runs.  
Away from the trees, away from whoever was stupid enough to hang around a forest at all, much less at night.  
He pauses against an old, rusting truck to regain his breath.  
The door is locked when he tries it, and he isn’t stupid enough to break the window, so he leans against the side and tries to calm down. 

A slight breeze ruffles through his curls and Dan feels a bit less afraid.  
The sound of fluttering catches his attention and he steps around to the front of the vehicle, stomach dropping at the sight of a small paper square fluttering against the bumper. He reaches forward and pulls it from the cold metal, inspecting it.  
It’s a drawing of a large man with arms a little too long and a blank face; its page two of eight.  
Dan can feel the tears streaming down his face now, and he doesn’t bother to wipe them as he stumbles toward the fence and presses his back into it.  
Strafe, strafe. Back to the wall, Dan.  
He sidles against the wall for a few feet before the sound of deep drums reverberate around him, as if every blade of grass were a speaker set on loud.  
The tears come faster now, and he grips his one page tightly.  
Fuck. 

He finds another page in the large concrete tunnel: and the slendy tube couldn’t be left behind faster as the drums start to speed up.  
The fence is his friend and he returns to it, his back covered and his feet moving quickly but clumsily as he tries to run sideways. 

He finds the third page in the bathroom-like structure.  
It takes him too long to work up the courage to enter, and not enough time to get out. He runs like a bat out of hell and presses himself against the fence once more.  
The drums are too loud, just the sound is enough to bring Dan to the verge of wetting himself, but the sound of footsteps beside him makes him run.  
Full pelt, Dan dashes forward; away from the noise, away from the bathroom, away from the trees...  
He runs until he’s breathing so hard it hurts.  
Runs until the sound of blood in his ears drowns out the sound of drums.  
Until he reaches the giant tree in the center of the forest, and he leans against it in pain. 

He can barely make out the paper against the bark, but he reaches for it nonetheless. Grasps it too hard in his fist; the fourth page…

It’s overwhelming when the drums speed way up, getting louder. The atmosphere gets too heavy. He feels his legs wobbling under the stress; but he’s okay.  
He’ll be okay.  
He’s breathing, he’s blinking; he’s living.  
He focuses on recovering enough to run again, to find the other pages. He stumbles forward, only to be caught in a tight grip. His body goes ridged, heart drops, spine numbs. 

Fuck.

Dan turns around, hoping for an employee... Hoping for Phil. 

A blank, white face stares back at him, fingers too long on his shoulder, breath puffing strangely. Dan screams; loud, piercing, terrified. He screams and he tries to wrench his shoulder out of the large hand. It doesn’t work, instead another large hand grips him hard on the opposite shoulder and he’s pressed back hard against the tree. Slender presses close, face revealing a mouth too wide, a mouth filled with sharp teeth and blood. He breathes out against Dan’s face, and it smells. Sweet, cloying… chemical.

Dan’s consciousness fades and his body slides down the tree trunk; tears leaking out of closed brown eyes. 

_ _

Phil knows the game as soon as he wakes up.  
Well, as soon as he adjusts his contact lenses and focuses on his surroundings. Shakily, he carves an x into the ground by his feet before jogging off into the trees.  
He gets a few minutes to wander before he hears the drumming start up.  
It’s loud, surrounding him, and Phil wonders if someone else is here with him. After all, the scary sounds only started when a page is found…  
He wants it to be Dan.  
He hopes it isn’t. 

The sound of his large feet stumbling through the grass and trees is loud enough to distract him from the sound of drums as he sort of wanders through the level. He can see a few large rocks ahead and he runs off toward them; both glad and a little terrified at the page he found lying innocently against one.  
Setting off again, he directs himself back into the trees walking fast and humming to himself.  
Maybe this won’t be so hard.

His scribbled x is at his feet as he faces the fence. The drums have gotten louder and he still has only one page.  
Perhaps his orienteering skills aren’t what he thought they were… Phil decides to set off in the opposite direction, wandering again; looking for anything remotely page-like. 

It takes him a few minutes of walking before he stumbles upon a rusted out car with a page tucked into a crack. Another few and he’s found the elephant butt, and snatched the page from there as well. He feels confident in his skill, holding his three pages gently in his hand.  
Slender Man? More like a pleasant forest night-walk.  
He stops.  
His x is at his feet again. 

Frowning, he sets off in what he thinks is a new direction, ignoring the sound of drums all around him. 

A shock of pure fear stops Phil in his tracks when he hears the drums speed up, then fade slightly with the sound of screaming. The sound is raw and terrified, spurring him into action.  
He knows that scream.  
He’s running, clumsy but as fast, toward the sound; sprinting past trees as his heart pounds in his chest.  
Please be okay…

He tears past countless trees, tripping on roots but pushing himself to his feet every time.  
His jeans are grass stained and his tee-shirt is riding up his stomach as he runs, but he doesn’t care. All three pages are still gripped tightly in his hand.  
Please be alright…

Stumbling into a clearing where a giant tree stands tall, a little white page fluttering innocently on its trunk, Phil barely has time to care as he snatches it while circling the tree for any clue...  
Halfway around the large trunk, he sees a pair of dark sneakers he knows very well. One he sees in his home every day.  
“Dan!” he cries, rushing to his companion’s side and pressing his cold, dirty hands to the younger boys face. 

Dan is laying at the foot of the tree, limbs spread out as if he’d fallen there against the tree. He was breathing, but unconscious. In his left hand was a wad of paper still tightly held between large fingers. Phil breathes a sigh of relief, hands still resting against the sides of Dan’s face.  
Pretty brown eyes flutter as Dan startles awake with a gasp. 

“Phil!” Dan cries, tears running as soon as he realizes who sits with him. Strong arms encircle Phil’s shoulders as he is pulled into a hug. He returns it with a smile, gently running his hands through Dan’s hair in comfort. They breathe for a moment, simply recovering in each other’s arms.  
It’s a minute before they break apart, Phil murmuring sweet words as Dan collects himself and wipes his eyes. 

“Did you find any pages?” Dan asks suddenly, straightening against the trunk of the tree. Phil nods and hands over his four pages as Dan straightens his. All eight pages lay mangled before them as Dan lays them in a line.  
It’s a breath of relief; the game is completed. 

Abruptly, the drums cut out and both men are left in complete silence. Dan grips Phil’s leg, terrified, and Phil places his hand over it.  
A large man appears from behind a tree, too long and too tall; his face fully white…  
With a creak the ground beneath them trembles, then opens; dropping both boys into a heap below. Dan grips Phil around the middle, face buried in his stomach as the younger whimpers during the fall.  
They hit a pile of soft material, and Phil watches as the trapdoor above them lifts to a close. 

Drenched in darkness, Phil reaches for Dan.  
A light from their left brightens suddenly and the glow of a set of computers catches his attention. His vision adjusts and he sees a wall full of drawings; a fan on a desk; a single desk chair in front of a set of monitors. Dan shifts in his lap and Phil grasps his arm.  
“Phil?”  
“It’s Five Nights at Freddie’s”


	5. Vanish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mark is also, very not okay.

Mark awakens in on a hard stone floor.  
His tailbone hurts, his head is pounding, and his glasses are askew on his face. He reaches up to center them back on his nose as he studies his surroundings...  
Behind him; a small glass room.   
In front of him; a large metal gate.  
There's a hole in the bottom, big enough for him to crawl through, but he doesn't want to. 

He doesn't want go into the dark space beyond. 

Not that he has any other choice.   
When are there ever choices in horror games?

He gets down on all fours, making sure the little space is safe before pushing his body through it. The ground is cold and his knees soak up some sort of liquid as he passes through into a long hall…   
He's surrounded by tunnels made of dark, wet brick.   
It's oppressive, it's damp, and it's making him claustrophobic. 

There are pipes all along the crease of the ceiling, spitting steam and dripping water.   
Mark feels his stomach drop a little as he stares off toward the light a little ways down. It's an industrial style; cords running back toward where he had come from, and its brightness blinds him a little, even with the distance. He wanders further down the hall and finds a small bit of paper pressed firmly against a wall. He peels the paper off the sticky surface and scans it in the dimming light.   
"Hey man, if you see this, my radio's busted-- heading back to the access ladder to grab a replacement." it reads. He tucks the slip of paper into his pocket and continues down the hall. Everything about this seems familiar, and deep down; Mark doesn't want to admit he already knows where he is. 

He already knows this game. 

_ _

A few minutes of carefully placed steps between concrete floor and endless puddles, Mark stumbles upon a small hole in the side of the wall. His heart skips as he kneels down to inspect it. It's big enough for him to slip into, a small tunnel between halls but he decides not to follow it.   
He doesn't want to run into... anything.   
Making sure to be as quiet as he can, Mark continues down the halls in search of clues. He finds a glow stick, laying innocently on the floor, and picks it up. The glow helps a little, letting him see the puddles on the floor in more definition but it only makes the darkness in front of him seem larger. It makes his stomach tense and his grip on the plastic harder.   
He'll never see it coming in dark like this...

He doesn't see it coming. 

The sound of scuffling and snorting alerts Mark to the presence of something other than himself, but all he can do it press himself into the wall; stop breathing...   
He can hear its strange sounding footsteps; pacing.   
Mark backs away, slowly. As quietly as he can.   
His shoe sinks into a puddle with a dull splash. 

The sound of shuffling down the hall stops.   
He doesn't move, rooted to the spot. Terrified. 

The footsteps move closer, slow and deliberate.   
Mark has tears in his eyes, his hands are drenched in sweat as he clenches them into fists at his sides.

The gangly shape of a body starts to form in the light of one of the caged bulbs a few feet from where mark stands and he can barely hold back a sob of fear. 

It isn't until the monster turns slightly, attention broken, that Mark tosses his light stick as far as he can.   
Toward the monster.   
Away from him.   
The monster tears after the noise, too fast and too strong.   
Mark runs the other way as fast as he can, heading for the tunnel he'd passed; trying to hide. He can hear the monster following him; hear it gaining on him. He throws himself into the tunnel, feeling the skin of his arm scrape open as he makes contact with the ragged concrete of the open tunnel. He doesn't wait to address his injury, he doesn't wait to see if the monster still chases him; he only crawls through the tunnel. Hands and knees cutting open on bits of rock and jagged edges. He sits in the center of the tunnel, seeing light from either side; and he cries.   
He's been here in the tunnel too long. The monster still shuffles in search of him; hearing his heavy breathing and wet sobs. His heart is in his throat, anxiety biting at his head as it aches. His hands and knees hurt, but the bleeding has stopped. His elbow is still sticky; but he has no time or will to inspect the wound. He will sit here until the monster leaves...

Mark falls asleep in the tunnel; exhausted. 

_ _

He's jolted awake to the sound of footsteps, echoing loud and fast in the eerie quiet of the level, seemingly jogging toward where he still lays in the tunnel. The monster is still outside the entrance, clearly focused on the sound as the scuffling and wet sniffles quiet down. 

Someone is coming, and they're headed straight toward the monster...

Frantically, Mark starts to pick at the wall of the tunnel; trying to get a chunk of something, anything, to distract the monster from whoever was headed his way.   
He doesn't want to watch anyone die... 

The footsteps come closer, and Mark still doesn't have the chunk of wall he's been kicking at. He tries to pry a piece loose with his fingers, straining with the effort he's exerting just for one, tiny lump of rock. The monster still shuffles nearby with interest, but Mark's scratching fingernails are enough to keep it from hunting down the other source of sound.   
Heavy breathing filters down the little tunnel and finally a lump of concrete comes loose in his hand. He shuffles as fast as he can for an exit, toward the monster.   
Toward the unknowing player. 

Sitting in the open mouth of his hiding spot, Mark counts down; preparing to toss the rock. He has to time it perfectly if he wants any chance of surviving...  
Five; the monster still shuffles just feet from where he trembles.   
Four; the footsteps slow.  
Three; an eerie silence.   
Two; a tentative step and labored breathing.   
One; the monster leaps, and Mark rears his arm back and throws his stone hard. It hits the wall, clatters to the floor and bounces a few times, distracting the monster enough for Mark to roll out of his hiding place and attempt to grab-- Sean Mcloughlin. 

The Irishman yelps in surprise as Mark grabs him around the middle and pulls him down to the ground.   
"Get in the tunnel!" he whispers harshly, shoving Jack in ahead of him. They shuffle inside quickly as the monster reals back with a shriek and runs for them. Terrified, Mark shuffles up over Jack's body; covering him as three-fingered hands reach from the mouth of the tunnel. A litany of curses flow from Jacks mouth as he continues to shuffle as fast as he can, scrabbling all the way through.   
Both men shuffle out onto the damp floor with heaving breaths, rolling over onto their backs as they try and catch their breath.  
"What the fuck was that!?" Jack cries, loud and echoing through the hall. Mark rolls over and wraps a hand around Jacks mouth in fear, his head whipping around to check if they were still safe.   
"Shut up!" Mark hisses; looking around them. They seem to be undetected, for the moment. 

_ _

Jack lays underneath Mark as the man holds his hand against his mouth. He wants to bite him, but he can smell blood and decides against it. Rolling away from Mark, he breathes in and spits onto the floor.   
"You're bleeding," He snarls, agitated and afraid; "What happened?"   
Mark looks at him, then holds his hands out to look at them. They were caked with dried blood, and Jack notices him flinch. Gently, Jack takes them in his smaller hands and looks at the cuts on his palms and fingers. They had stopped bleeding some time ago, leaving little scabbed scrapes in their place, but it looked okay in the dim light. Nothing to signify any infection. Jack lets the warm hands go and looks up into Mark's tense face.   
Jack starts to ask where there are, but Mark slaps his hands over his mouth before he can even start speaking.   
"Shut up!" Mark whispers, his face twisted in fear and his eyes flicking this way and that in paranoia. "This is Vanish; the monsters find you with sound! I need you to stop being Jack for five minutes so we let’s get the fuck out of here! Try not making a fuckton of noise."

Jack's offended; angrily pushing Mark's hand off his mouth with a frown. He stands and starts off toward the left side of the hall without a word, not even looking back. Mark shuffles to his feet behind him, but Jack doesn't turn around. There's a stinging sensation in his throat; the insult still sitting heated in his chest. 

They walk in silence, neither bothering to engage until they come to an open room. It's the generator room, filled with water tanks and steam, loudly clanking and hissing with movement and broken piping. Jack finds the set of keys on the floor and picks them up with a huff of effort; pocketing them and starting back toward where he had come.   
Mark's hand on his arm jerks him to a halt and he looks up at the taller man, an irritated question unasked. With his opposite hand, Mark points to a different exit just to their right and Jack nods in response, shrugging off his hand and shuffling toward the exit. 

After sneaking through the halls after the boiler room, both men had been assaulted by dust. Massive amounts of fluffy, black particles fling in their noses and eyes, nearly blinding them both.   
Neither was free of the itchy nose or the sniffling tears.   
One sneeze from Mark's big nose had attracted trouble; and standing still holding their breath wasn't going to ward it away.

The monster had snuck up on them in an instant, barreling through the hallway as Jack grabs Mark and presses him backward against the wall, lining himself up next to him as the giant mole-like monster stands stalk still just feet away.   
It's listening, Jack can fee; it. Waiting for one of them to move, to fuck up and get nabbed...   
God damn it.  
He reaches for his pocket-- slowly, watching as the large, humanoid monster snuffles and turns toward the wall across from them. The keys clink slightly in his grip as he extracts them and slips them into Mark's hand as quietly as he can. The other man looks at him, confused, and Jack just smiles sadly.   
"Sorry." he mouths slowly, "I guess I can't be anything but Jack."  
Without waiting for a response, he runs back the way they had come, as fast and as loud as he could.

_ _

Mark watches in horror as Jack takes off running, his sneakers slapping loudly as he sprints back the way they had come. He barely makes it a few feet before the monster is on him, grabbing him by the arms.   
He feels his throat restrict as the monster's large hands pull Jack backward and reach up to grip either side of his head: fuzzy brown hair bouncing as it's torn violently to the side with a resounding crack. 

Jack's body falls to the ground in a heap, a soft thud echoing around as Mark's hand covers his mouth in horror, a silent, choked sob barely staying in his throat. He watches as the Monster grabs Jack by the ankle and starts to drag him away, uncaring as his clothing catches and his head thumps across the uneven floor.   
It takes too long for Mark to regain feeling in his body; long enough that the monster's fleshy footsteps were out of earshot. Mark slides down the rough brick wall and cradles his head in his hands: had he just done nothing while his friend sacrificed himself?   
Had he just stood by and watched his friend die?

He runs for the boiler room, careful not to get caught, and follows the sound of footsteps once he finds them. Keeping his distance and stopping to hide every time they pause. He tracks his way as best he can, a challenge when every hall looks exactly the same.   
When it stops, it's at a dead end.   
Another little glass room sits at the end of the hall, and before it is another iron gate.|  
Jack is dumped roughly on the ground beside it and the monster snuffles and returns the way it had come, shuffling past Mark on its way back into the maze. He waits until he can no longer hear footsteps before rushing to Jack's side.   
"Jack!" he calls in a whisper, shaking the younger gently, "Sean!"   
There's no response. 

Mark presses his fingers to the thin neck, feeling for a pulse. There is a heartbeat, steady and relaxed, and Mark lets out a sigh of relief, hauling the limp body up onto his shoulder as gently as he can manage. He's determined to carry him to the exit. He won’t leave him behind. 

He still has to apologize for what he said; how he acted. 

Mark carries Jack as quickly as he can, always listening for any sign of the monster.   
He tries backtracking, but everything looks the same and it takes way too long to find his way back to the boiler room. He finds a few light sticks on the way, which are an advantage in a dark, closed off room, but before Mark can even think about finding a place for Jack to rest, the noise of releasing pressure and steam wakes him and he jolts to attention. 

"Hey." Mark says gently, letting Jack scramble off his back in a flurry of kicking and pushing. He helps him shuffle around and sit with his back to the wall; reaching over to cushion his head with his hand.   
Jack doesn't say anything, only looks ahead with a wide, glassy-eyed expression.  
"Jack, hey, look at me." Mark says gently, his voice as soothing as he can make it.   
Glazed blue eyes rise to meet his, and Mark is caught off guard by how pretty he finds them.   
Even when their wide and confused.  
"Hey buddy," he soothes, "you're safe, I've got you."   
Jack looks away again, straightening a sluggish arm in an attempt to push himself up. He fails; sliding down against the wall with a groan but Mark catches him easily, straightening him up again. 

"Looks like it's too soon for that," Mark says gently, pulling the hand not holding Jack's head up in front of Jack's face, "Focus on my finger, okay?"   
He moves his hand back and forth, his index finger extended, and watches as blue eyes follow it. Up and down and around; Jack's eyes are slowly clearing as he catches the movement and follows it.  
"Good," Mark sighs, "Good. Now how many fingers am I holding up?"  
Jack looks up into Marks eyes, his face pulling into an irritated frown; but the movement rips a pained moan from his throat. Alarmed, Mark runs his fingers against Jack's skull, looking for soft spots or blood. There's nothing, but when his fingers find the soft skin of Jack's neck, Mark can feel the muscles spasm as Jack whines again. 

Mark cracks one of the light sticks, shaking it quickly, and holds it up to Jack's neck for inspection. The swell is barely noticeable, so Mark uses his fingers to try and rub some of the tension in his collar, where the muscles begin, and moves upward toward where spine connects to skull. Jack is barely functional beneath him; still dizzy from being ripped from consciousness, and he flops down into Mark's shoulder at the gentle contact. Little whimpers of pain leave his chest as Mark works through the worst knots as fast as he can.   
After a few tense moments, Mark pulls his hands away and rests them against Jack's shoulders.   
"Better?" he asks quietly.   
Jack nods his head and pulls himself up to sit straight, moving his head around to test the strength of his neck. He seems satisfied with it eventually, and Mark allows him to lead the way out of the boiler room and back into the hallway. 

It doesn't take long for them to reach the ladder leading out of the level; a simple, straight shot from the boiler room, just a little further than where they had gotten caught. Jack seems coherent enough, but Mark's still reliving the moment where his head twists violently to the side... 

He doesn't realize that he's grabbed Jack, his hands holding tightly to his forearms before his brain catches up to his body.   
"Sean," Mark breathes, and he can feel the smaller man flinch, "how are you feeling?"  
He looks up at him, his head seeming to move just fine now. His face is tinged a faint red in the harsh light; filtering down from the top of the exit. It seems like a blush, but Mark can't quite tell before Jack's pulling himself out of his grasp.  
"I'm fine" he says, his eyes glued to the floor.   
Mark doesn't quite believe him,   
"Jack, I..." he starts, trying to summon up the courage to apologize for his earlier behavior. He doesn't get the chance to, though, as Jack's legs suddenly collapse underneath him. Mark reaches out immediately, catching him under the arms just before he lands in a heap on the dirty floor.   
Again. 

Mark hauls Jack to his feet and holds him there; steadying him until he can stand on his own. It's only a few moments, but the warm contact feels drawn out and tense: thick with unsaid words and guilt.   
Jack pushes Mark away slightly, fighting to stand again as his legs shake and then steady. He's frowning in concentration; his tongue poking out between pink lips and his eyebrows drawn together in focus…   
Mark has to hide his smile as Jack wobbles, gripping his shoulders for support. He stands on his own after a moment, and Mark lets his hands slide down to rest on Jack's hips as he steadies him.   
Once he's standing properly, the awareness of it makes him rip his hands away.   
They spend a moment in silence, neither speaking nor looking at each other as Mark contemplates apologizing.   
They end up stepping away from each other in awkward silence...

Mark gestures at the ladder in front of them, having unlocked the cage around it with the key.   
"You go up first." he offers kindly, the first to speak.   
Jack frowns, but doesn't bother arguing. Instead, he grabs ahold of the sturdy metal and heaves himself up the ladder with surprising agility.

Mark follows him up, careful not to crowd him. 

Near the top, Mark feels a breeze. He's excited to finally be out of that hell, and he pulls himself up next to Jack to looks out.

They sit perched at the top of a construction platform on the side of a building. Just beside them is an open window, the sound of TV static blaring through the air, as they overlook a courtyard; framed by an intimidating iron fence and filled with an armada of totaled armored cars.   
Shit.   
"Outlast..." Jack gasps in recognition.   
Mark almost considers jumping off the scaffolding


	6. Are You Ready for Freddie?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spoilers: They aren't.

Dan sits tensely at the desk, the keyboard under his fingers as he watches each screen with equal intensity.   
He can feel Phil stood behind him, but he ignores him in favor of trying to keep track of the action on each screen. So far, only Freddie had started moving, but it couldn’t be long before Chica and Bonnie started to move as well.   
A hint of movement; just a flickering flash on a single screen has Dan's head whipping to the side in terror:  
"Left door!" he screams, the sound reverberating through the tiny, cramped office.  
Phil leaps into action, slamming the door shut with the lever near the frame. 

Dan doesn't even flinch, eyes already back on the screens as he waits for the animatronic to leave.   
Phil waits for his instruction, still poised and ready at the door, watching the mop of brown hair dance softly as Dan's head flicks back and forth between bright screens...   
"Right door!"   
Phil stumbles to close the opposite door as quickly as he can, running back to open the opposite door and conserve as much power as possible. 

Dan's attention is focused solely on the bright lights of the monitors. The tan of his skin fades in harsh light, bleaching him out until he looks like a terrified angel in the center of the dark room; illuminated.   
Phil returns to Dan's side after a moment of tense silence and he can almost sense him watching the screens as his hands grip the back of the office chair behind Dan's shoulders.   
After a few taps on the keyboard, Dan flicks a hand toward the door to their right;   
"Open it, I see him." he commands, eyes still unmoving.  
Phil does as he's told and opens the door, flicking on the light just to check. The hallway beyond is empty, a relief, and Phil starts back to the desk just as Dan screams.   
"Shit!" 

Dan's shrill voice leaves Phil startled, frozen solid in confusion and fear.   
"Shit! Shit, shit, shit...!"   
He abandons his chair, knocking it over loudly as he runs to the left side, slamming the door shut. He's breathing hard, and Phil starts to ask him if everything's okay when Dan points frantically at the opposite side of the room.   
"Get the light, Phil!" he gasps, and Phil wastes no time in running to flip the switch. Outside the room is empty, once again, but there's something running down the opposite hall. Phil turns to see Dan pressed up against the door as some heavy force smashes against it.   
"What is that!?" Phil shrieks.   
"The fucking fox!" Dan replies, loud and angry. 

The knocking stops and Dan runs for the computer, not bothering to right the chair as he leans his body over to push his face directly into the wall of monitors. 

The tension in the room is so heavy Dan feels like he can breathe it in. Their power is low, leaving both of them vulnerable; and he's scared to turn on a light or shut a door. It's humid, it's hot, and Dan can't tell if he's sweating from the heat or the situation. Blue eyes are trained on him, he can feel them even as he redoubles what focus he can muster onto the streaming footage. 

It feels like they've been trapped in this room for an eternity...

"What's the time?" Phil calls gently.   
For a moment, Dan doesn't respond; but once he's sure there aren't any animatronics’ nearby he checks the clock on the desk.  
"It’s 5am, Phil," he breathes, "We're so close..."  
Phil can't help the relieved smile creeping onto his face, and both of them sort of laugh; nervous and hopeful as Dan turns back toward the monitors. Dan's almost relaxing, almost, until he sees a flash of movement on a screen. He swivels his head about, looking quickly between screens and tapping crazily at the keyboard trying to find what it was.  
"What?" Phil calls.  
Dan almost doesn't respond;   
"I can't find Chica..." Dan admits, looking toward Phil, "Phil, I can't find Chica."

* * *

Dan's heart is beating a million miles an hour, his hands are sweating; his head aches.  
"Who?"  
"The goddamn duck!"  
Phil's face is frozen for a minute before he starts toward the right door; reaching for the light. Dan isn't fast enough to reach his side; He isn't even thinking, he just knows that Phil shouldn't be there. He's watched enough playthroughs to know that Chica is always in the right doorway.  
"Phil! No!" 

He's too late; a huge yellow hand already has Phil around the middle, hauling him into the dark hallway with a mechanical huff. Dan stands in the doorway, his legs suddenly jelly as he listens to Phil screaming out for him.   
Hears his name filtering down the hall; Phil's comforting voice broken and strained.   
Dan's near hysteria, trying to push his frozen feet to take him out into the hall. 

They won’t move. Tears are running down his cheeks, snot dripping over his lips as he feels a crushing weight press down in his chest. Music starts to filter into the room and he turns around. The screens all read "6am", mocking him.   
His anger finally unlocks his joints and he propels himself down the dark hallway after the fading echo of Phil's voice. 

* * *

The pitch black hallway ends with a massive metal door and Dan bursts through and into another office.   
Phil sits on the floor behind the desk, more pale than usual.   
He drops to Phil's side, taking his shoulders into his hands gently.   
"Phil..." he whispers, worried. Wide blue eyes look up at him, and for a moment, Dan thought the older man might cry.   
Instead, Phil grasps the taller by the waist and pulls him in for an awkward hug, squeezing him into his chest and breathing him in. Dan lets himself be comforted in the warm embrace.  
Phil pulls away too soon.   
"Phil?" he questions gently, quieted by a large hand brushing through his fringe softly.  
"Come on, we have to finish." Phil says, his voice a little shaky and high.  
Dan nods, and they stand, surveys the room. The office here is bigger, more spacious, with a massive opening at the front.   
Oh.   
To his left is a vent, and too his right is another.   
Laying innocently on the desk is a flashlight and a set of Freddie Fazzbear masks.   
"It's Five Nights at Freddie's two." Phil says from the floor, his pale hands running agitatedly over his thighs. 

* * * 

Phil sits in the lone chair behind the desk as Dan stands to operate the cameras. He can't really focus: his heart is still beating a little too fast. He can still feel the metal hands wrapped tightly around his body, dragging him against his will, constricting him... He doesn't realize he's breathing has quickened until he feels Dan's hands on him. He opens his eyes in surprise; looking up into Dan's soft face.   
Large hands perch on his thighs as Dan uses the leverage to lean down toward him. Phil's about to ask what's wrong, but Dan's still coming closer, eyes still locked on his.   
"Dan?" Phil whispers, the gentle question almost lost as Dan inhales his words. Phil grips the handles of his chair.   
He can't look away: he doesn't want to; He watches Dan's eyes flit around, attention catching on his eyes, then his mouth... Phil can't help but reach up to put his hand on the soft curve of Dan's waist. 

He's so close Phil can breathe in every exhale from Dan's parted lips. 

The sound of a child’s laugh startles Dan enough break his attention. Phil tightens his grip on Dan's waist, adding his other hand, which slips up under the loose black tee-shirt and makes contact with warm skin.   
"Dan." Phil repeats, and Dan's attention returns. It's enough of a question for Dan to reply with a breathless;  
"You're okay?"   
Neither of them break eye contact.   
"Yeah," Phil's breathing in his air again; "Yeah, I’m good."

Suddenly, the silence around them is too stark. Too loud.   
Dan yanks a Freddie mask over Phil's head and returns to the computer. Phil can hear him typing, and the winding of a music box, but the mask cuts out most of his vision. He can hear a lot of typing; the sound of the camera being flipped from room to room and vent to vent, but Phil leaves on his mask. 

He doesn't want to see. 

It’s only been minutes, yet both Freddie and Balloon Boy have taken up residence in the office.   
Phil can hear a string of curses as Dan pulls on his own Freddie mask and steps a bit closer to him.   
The child’s laughter is disturbing, even in the dark.   
Phil still refuses to take off the mask. 

Dan's standing next to the chair, as if to keep whatever threat there may be from snatching Phil again, and he doesn't miss the gesture. He reaches out blindly to rest his hand on Dan's arm reassuringly, but the robotic sound of a jump scare rings throughout the room.   
Dan's shriek has him pulling off the mask and Phil opens his eyes to the sight of a gangly black puppet ripping Dan's massive body over the desk, his mask falling uselessly to the ground between them.  
"Dan!" he cries, adrenaline spiking as he rushes around the desk.   
The giant puppet pulls Dan toward the center hallway, its dead face looking directly at him as he trips over his own feet.  
He's already stumbling after it, grabbing the flashlight and shining it onto the black mass of limbs, watching as Dan writhes and screams in the tight hold;   
"Music box!" is all he can choke out before they start to fade into the shadows at the end of the hall.

Phil reaches for the button on the desk and holds it down; winding up the stupid box without taking his eyes off the hallway. Dan's still fighting, using his legs to struggle, trying his hardest to escape: Phil can still hear his shoes squeak on the metal floor and his grunting efforts at escape...   
Once the music box starts playing again, The puppet releases Dan and slinks back into the shadows beyond the door. Phil rushes forward immediately, just as Dan is ripped backward into the darkness with gasp. Phil runs after him, but there is no sign of Dan at all, only a dead end.  
Phil runs back into the office to check the time. 

It's only 4am. 

* * * 

Phil hates this game; he doesn't have the attention span to deal with Freddie and Chica storming in at the same time as Balloon Boy, just as the puppet's box dies!   
It's only 5am, but it feels like the level should have ended hours ago with how hard he's concentrating...  
The stupid bunny still lurks in the vent and that damned puppet still haunts him as he recharges the music box over and over and over. 

It's a miracle he even finishes the level, considering that by the time 6am flashes across the screen, he has Freddie and Bonnie and Balloon boy in his office and the music box has run its last notes.   
Behind the mask, Phil can only hear the mechanical retreat of the animatronics. He practically rips the mask from his head as he clumsily vaults the desk, tripping over himself in order to rush down the hall to where he can still remember Dan's terrified screams getting further and further away. Once Phil reaches the end of the black hallway, he ends up in a dirty room instead of a dead end.  
Dan is sitting at a dingy desk, staring at a tablet. 

A child’s voice calls out:   
"Hello."  
The doorway he'd come through slides shut and clicks into place in the wall, closing them both in.   
Phil doesn't care.  
He runs up to where Dan is perched on the edge of his seat in relief, his hands itch to touch him, and he lets his fingers brush against sturdy shoulders as they rest on the back of the chair. 

* * *

They get through Five Nights at Freddie's 3 with relative ease, as Dan simply mashes the child’s voice button and Phil stays focused on resetting the systems.   
Always.   
It only feels like an eternity before they're running out of the little office at full speed. 

Dan straight up punches the wall when they skid through the doorway and end up in a child’s bedroom.   
Five Nights of Freddie’s 4 was his least favorite.  
It hit too close to home, he said.   
He was sweating twice as much as he had through the last few levels; his hands slipped on the doorknobs too often, twitchy fingers faltering to hold the door shut...   
It almost hurts Phil to watch.

"Phil, man the right door." he commands shakily, and Phil complies easily.   
Both of them are silent; a rare occurrence.   
It's a strange comradery that starts in the space speech can no longer fill. Dan's hands are waving, when they aren't attached to the door, and Phil always seems to understand what he means. A large hand circling?   
Phil checks the bed.   
Rapid patting of the wall near Dan's door?   
Phil checks the closet. 

Their rapid breathing confuses him for a moment before he realizes that something is actually there, tugging on his door.   
Dan rushes to help him when he notices Phil's tightened grip and pale face, securing his hands over Phil's smaller ones as he pull back against the animatronic on the opposite side.   
The sound of whirring has Phil shining the light on the bed where three little Freddie’s sit twitching on the bed. 

He wonders how they're built when they scatter. 

Phil's glad that neither of them get snatched as the decorative alarm clock blares the victory theme. They both practically jump out of their skin at the sudden loud noise.   
It's a blessing and a curse when they leave; walking down the hallway where the windows make Dan uncomfortable beside him.   
The immersion is ruined when he pauses to look out one of them and it's obviously a little screen behind a pane of glass. 

At the very end of the hallway is an elevator door that Phil has already called by the time Dan has reaches his side. They don't even have to wait before the doors slide open and they step into a round room with a fan blade spinning shadows all around.   
"Welcome to the first day of your exciting new career. We welcome you. I will be your guide to help you get started!" a robotic voice says just as the elevator starts to move.   
"Fuck."  
"Welcome, Eggs Benedict."

It was a miracle that either of them had fit through the tiny vent leading into Five Nights At Freddie's: Sister Location. It's dark and eerie and cramped and Dan really doesn't want to be here...   
Phil had barely made it to the room, his fear of being stuck in one of those shafts nearly paralyzing him in fear.   
Dan follows all the directions quickly: Ballora had been zapped into submission, and Fun-Time Foxy was on her stage. 

They continue forward to where Circus Baby lives, and Phil slams his fist into the button.   
Once.   
Twice.   
Three times. 

The guide goes offline. 

The motion trigger warnings start to play. 

"I don't recognize you." a childlike voice echoes around the room; "You are new."  
Dan automatically reaches out for Phil in the darkness.   
"I remember this scenario, however."  
Phil grips Dan's hand tightly.   
"It's a strange thing to want to do; to come here. I’m curious what events would lead a person to want to spend their nights in a place like this."  
Phil is already dragging Dan toward the carved out desk; waiting for him to fit himself inside.   
"There is a space under the desk! Someone before you crafted it into a hiding place and it worked for him. I recommend you hurry, though. You will be safe there."  
Phil presses himself in behind Dan; pressing the taller boy down into the back of the small area and shielding him with his body. As soon as the desk slides closed; Dan finds himself clinging to Phil in terror. 

* * *

Phil's holding the door closed as tightly as he can manage; ignoring the little murmurs of creatures from the other side and Dan shuts his eyes tightly. They tap; metal fingers on metal and peeking in with plastic eyes.   
It's not soon enough when the pretty voice comes on again;   
"When your guide comes back online, he is going to tell you that he was unsuccessful; that you must restart the system manually. He will then tell you to crawl through Ballora's gallery as fast as you can to reach the breaker room. If you follow his instructions, you will die."  
Phil helps drag Dan out from under the desk.   
"Ballora will not return to her stage anymore; she will catch you! The power will be restored shortly. When you crawl through Ballora gallery, go slowly. She cannot see you and can only listen for your movement. When you hear her music grow louder, she is near; listening for you. Wait. And be still."  
The guide returns; and relays the same message. He deactivates. Phil leads Dan through the dark vent and out into Ballora gallery. They crawl through the room; slowly, quietly. They can make out the form of a massive, metal ballerina as she spins in circles around them. They stop. They wait.   
As soon as she leaves, Phil runs for the exit, dragging Dan behind him. 

Resetting the system is ridiculously hard. Dan watches as Phil pulls open the little box and starts to reset each room, but he continuously slams it shut as he sees the outline of Freddie moving. There is so much tension that Dan genuinely might puke. He wants to leave. He's seriously considering leaving at the halfway point as they work together to reset each room. 

After a moment, Dan shoves Phil away and starts resetting the system without even considering Freddy. He shuts the box after each fuse; even if he can feel hot, metallic breath ghosting over his face as he watches the progress. Phil doesn't speak, and Dan doesn't allow himself to breathe until the lights flood the room...   
There is an exit on the opposite side of the cord filled room. Phil wasn't waiting for Freddie to return; instead he shoves Dan through it and steps through himself. 

"Hey there, kiddos!"

Hanayu hands each of them a water bottle and what looks like a packaged brownie with a smile. Dan snatches both the water and food before Phil even registers to reach for them.   
"You guys did great; do you want to review the footage? Take a little break? The feed we have public hasn't started yet."  
Dan breathes a sigh of relief as she guides them to a large computer console filled with many monitors. Some of them show Mark and Jack running through a dark tunnel, but the rest replay some of their terror from the levels before. It's a relief to sit down without worry.


	7. Outlast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> :I

Mark helps Jack up past the windowsill gently; trying not to notice how much smaller his hand is in his grip.   
How much smaller the Irishman is in general… 

He watches Jack pace the room a bit, watching for any sign of change from the game this level was based on.   
Outlast was a true horror game; full of jump scares and brutality... Mark really hopes this level is short considering the massive head trauma Jack had already suffered from. He pulls himself up into the room as quietly as he can.

"Jack." he calls softly, trodding over to the door on the opposite side of the room and motioning him over.   
He moves behind Mark as he pushes open the door quietly.   
There are lights on in the hallway outside, but there's no sign of movement. The way forward is blocked by random objects, a filing cabinet and a few boxes of folders and papers, but there's space to move through the center. He starts to reach for Jack, to pull him back and away. To protect him by going through the small space first; but Jack's already fitted himself into and through.   
Resigned, Mark shoves himself through as well, making sure not to let the other man out of his sight again. 

They start off for the first open door, rushing inside with caution. Mark ruffles through some papers on a desk as Jack stands guard at the door.   
It's mostly character expositions and subtle clues to the uninformed player that litter the desk; but inside the top drawer is a handheld camera and a battery. Mark fills the camera and brings it up to his face. At first; the camera focus on the computer screen, but then Mark swings it around to film Jack in the corner: arms wrapped around himself, eyes tired and downcast.   
No one should see Jacksepticeye this way.   
Mark lowers the camera, setting it down on the desk before joining the other man at the door.   
"Let's go." He murmurs next to Jack's ear; guiding him out the door with his hand firmly on the small of his back. He feels the little shudder, but he doesn't say a word. 

* * * 

When the door closes across from the break room, neither pays it any mind. Mark just pushes Jack through the doorway and closes the door behind himself as they inspect the dripping vent shaft and what really, really does look like a tied piece of human intestine.

The smell in the room is something unexpected as Mark brings his hand up to cover his nose. It smells of dead things; like rats in the walls or mice trapped in glue under the sink. He holds back a gag and watches as Jack does the same.   
As soon as they recover enough to talk, Jack points up to the vent and coughs;  
"Help me up?"  
Mark nods his head.

He chokes as he removes his hand to climb up the broken bits of vending machine and launching himself up to grab the ledge.   
With minimal struggle, he pulls himself inside, his head poking back out to grin at Jack.   
He grumbles out a remark, but clambers up to take Mark's outstretched hand and wiggle in next to him.   
The vent is really too small for them together, so they start inching their way through it and out the end. 

Mark drops to the floor with a loud thump, and reaches up to help Jack down. He shakes his head, but Mark still reaches out to steady him when he launches himself down to the ground. The flat look is enough to make Mark release the hold he has on his waist.   
"I'm not fragile, Mark. I won't break" he mutters under his breath; but his cheeks are painted pink and so are the tips of his ears.   
Mark won't admit it's cute. 

* * * 

If the little bit of flesh and blood before stank then the inside of the library reeked. The smell of rotting meat and mold and feces assaulted Mark's nose as soon as the door opened and the screaming body fell.   
He doesn't know how they fabricated it, a smell this realistic and disgusting. 

Behind him, Jack retches, milky white liquid dropping to the floor as he starts to wobble.   
For the second time; Mark reaches out to hold him steady, hands gripping him by the waist. Jack doesn't complain this time, holding one hand over his mouth as the other wraps around Mark's shoulders tightly.   
Mark can feel him trembling. 

With him as support, Mark helps Jack through the room, not even stopping to hear the impaled man scream about variants and turning back.   
There was only one way to go from here and they both knew it. 

Mark startles harshly when he sees the giant pink man walk around the upper floor; chains jingling loudly as he mumbles to himself.   
They've only just left the library...

He waits for the abomination to leave, allowing Jack to stand on his own again but keeping a hand against the small of his back in solidarity. Together, they head toward the next blockade. This time Mark manages to shove Jack back before he can squeeze inside and shuffles through it himself...

"Little pig!" 

The hand on his neck is very real and so is the stench of rot as the massive man breathes harshly into his face. He can't hear what the thing is saying as he's ripped bodily from the crawl space and smashed into the glass wall, but Jack's panicked voice does catch his attention. He regrets making eye contact instantly: regrets ever putting that expression on such a pretty face. 

The smile he offers is not reassuring as he's thrown down a story and blacks out on the floor; his last memory a teary mess of blue eyes and his own name screamed so sweetly.

* * * 

Jack tries to pull himself through the debris and reach Mark.   
"No! Mark!"  
His hands are slipping, sweaty from his panic.  
"Mark!" he screams, "Hold on! Mark!"  
He can feel his accent thicken as his chest tightens with adrenaline.

The blood drains from his face as he watches Mark's head smash roughly into a glass wall. It shatters and Jack catches brown eyes looking at him.   
"Mark!" he screams, feeling his voice crack through his dry throat. His vocal chords are straining; breaking. A little smile breaks out on the handsome face, and just like that Mark's falling. 

"Jesus, no! Mark!" Jack whimpers as he presses himself up against the glass on the opposite side of the blockade. He watches Mark land hard on the floor, sees it dip and swallow most of the momentum. 

Once his head hits the ground, Jack can see the lights go out. 

Billy slinks off, chains rattling, and Jack waits for the sound to stop before squeezing through and hopping off the ledge. The floor is very soft where he lands, saving him from injury as he scrambles across the uneven surface to inspect Mark's fallen body. Black hair falls across Mark's forehead, and Jack gently moves it aside, making sure he's not injured. When he cradles Marks head in his hands, however, there is a bit of blood dripping onto his hand. He feels around for any glass and is relieved when there is none. 

"Jesus... fuck!" Jack whimpers, crumpling next to Mark's body in relief. This whole ordeal wasn't worth what he felt like he was giving up; wasn't worth the pain. He knows he's strong; fitter than he's ever been.   
He also knows that carrying Mark isn't ideal. Instead, he wraps his arms around Mark's chest, heaving him across the floor and leaning him in a clean space of desk a little ways away. Props him up, checks his head again, and then stands.   
If they were getting out of here, it was up to him. 

* * *

Getting the security pass was easy.   
He knows where it is; jogging through the computer room, tracking blood with his shoes as he sneaks through a storage room and down a hall where a man sits in a wheelchair; muttering to himself in a daze.   
Twitching. 

He passes by slowly, eyes focused on the variant, then sprints through the doorway and away from the room of crazies staring at static.   
The pass is just beyond, on the dead body in the chair. He takes it and runs back the way he came; leaping up over the wheelchair as the man launches himself out of it. He manages to not get caught by the raving lunatic, instead booking it back to where he'd left Mark.

He drags the larger man to the security room, scanning the card to open the door and pulling them both into the room with a grunt. He shuts the door behind him but it won’t lock. 

Jack rears a hand back and slaps it across Mark's face hard.   
The man flinches, but his eyes don't open.   
Frantic, he looks around for anything to wake Mark up. There’s a cold cup of coffee on the desk and he takes it, throwing the liquid across Mark's face and chest.   
Spluttering, Mark twitches.   
Jack slaps him again.   
When that doesn't work, he reaches back to smack him again.  
This time, a large hand comes up and snatches his wrist, squeezing it hard enough to bruise.   
He sucks in a breath, almost scared.

"Dammit Sean!" Mark growls, pulling him closer by the arm.   
His kneeling legs scrape across the floor with force and he's propelled into a solid chest.   
"What the fuck? Why does it smell like coffee...?" Mark complains, and Jack presses his hands against Mark's chest to push himself up and away, ignoring his legs as he straddles the larger man on the floor.   
"Get in the locker." He commands, forcing himself up and over to the keyboard, pressing the spacebar a few times. 

Nothing happens.   
There's a password prompt but he hasn't seen anything that may give him a clue.   
He tries Wallrider first but it fails.   
Billy?  
Variant?   
Asylum?  
Irritated, Jack slams his fists on the table, raking his brain for more options. Anything written in blood or repeated during his previous play through....  
His head snaps up and his fingers return to the keys;   
W-H-I-T-N-E-S-S

The screen lights up with video feeds and Jack races back to the lockers to climb inside one, waiting for the inevitable visit of the big pink fuck.   
His breathing quickens as the sound of a body crashing against a solid door ricochets off the walls.   
God, his heart is nearly leaping out of his chest in fear; flinching harshly as the door flies off its hinges and the sound of heavy footsteps and chains echo around the room.   
It's mumbling: angry.   
Jack isn't expecting it when the door to his locker is ripped clean off and a hand wraps itself around his neck, picking him up and slamming him against the metal backing. He grunts in pain, breathing impaired, just as he's dropped to the floor. 

* * *

His adrenaline spikes and Jack scrambles to his feet and runs.   
His legs carry him through the hall and around the corner, propelling himself down a flight of stairs: running faster than he ever has before.   
He barely makes it to the last few stairs as his foot slips on a worn edge and he goes tumbling, rolling, falling... 

He hits the far wall hard, enough to disorientate him, but he still pushes himself up to his feet. He wobbles; willing his dizzy vision to focus on the gaping crack in the wall. He stumbles toward it; hazy.   
He can't hear chains; he can't hear footsteps, his entire head his full of ringing.  
Something grabs him by the back of the shirt and propels him through the wall, onto the flooded floor beyond. He breathes hard, almost blind, laying on his side in the water and doing his best to gather all his scattering pieces. 

He doesn't realize he's crying until a warm hand brushes through his hair and wipes over his cheeks gently.   
"Jack?"  
It's Mark.   
Of course it's Mark.   
"Sean? Talk to me. Are you okay?"  
He sniffles; pushes himself up. His arms are weak; adrenaline ebbing away, and he almost falls back into the shallow water.   
Mark's rough hand steadies him.   
"Jesus. Fuck." Jack wheezes; unconsciously, his hand comes up to grip tightly to Mark's forearm.   
"Hey, it's okay; it’s okay."   
Mark is rubbing his thumb up and down the side of Jack's face, waiting for him to calm down, but Jack is still hazy. Still breathing too hard. He tries to let the small gesture ground him, but it isn't really helping.   
He's still riled; still on the verge of a panic attack. 

He doesn't realize that he isn't getting enough oxygen.

_ _

Jack's eyes are glazing over, his chest rising and falling way too rapidly... Mark can't keep his attention...   
His face is in his hands... he doesn't know what to do...  
"Hey!" he cries, "Sean!"  
It's obvious that he can't hear him, but the smaller hands grip tightly to his forearms like he's trying.   
He's trying, and that’s enough to keep Mark calling his name until he hears it. He pulls one hand out of the tight grasp and runs it through the now messy tuft of brown hair on his head, trying to soothe him. 

It takes a few minutes before Mark's knees can't take resting awkwardly in the water anymore, so he moves both himself and Jack up against the wall, pulling the smaller man to rest across his chest. His hand goes back into his hair in an attempt to ground him. 

It takes a while for Sean to come back to himself.   
He immediately flinches, hard enough to slam his head straight into Mark's chin.   
"Ah, shit!" Mark exclaims, half asleep. His hand comes up and pulls Jack against his chest again, one hand holding his head as the other comes around the lithe abdomen to hold him down securely.   
"Babe, come on. You hit me hard! Jesus, how thick is your head?"  
He rubs his jaw, then his eyes, then looks down at Jack. 

He’s a little paler than normal, and his face is frozen in a slightly panicked, partly confused expression. Mark scratches at his black hair, waiting for the younger to speak.   
"M'sorry" was not the response he was expecting, and Mark's attention snaps back to Jack.   
"What do you mean, you're sorry?" Mark asks, "It was an accident."  
"No-- I," Jack fumbles for words, mouth opening and closing like a fish.   
In the end, he just closes his mouth and pushes himself up out of Mark's lap and stands. He's soaked from the waist down, and his right shoulder is still damp from when he fell.  
"Let's just go." 

Mark lets Jack lead, hopping over the old desk in the hall and sloshing toward where the main power source stands in the basement. They turn the corner and Jack climbs up onto into the flooded room beyond, stopping to help Mark clamber up as well.   
"I'll take the left room if you take the right." he whispers, eyes scanning. Mark nods;  
"Sure. 20 seconds once we enter the room? After the countdown, slam the button and hide; whichever room stays clear will be the one to flip the switch."  
Jack nods, then leaps down into the water and sloshes his way to the room, stopping at the closed door and waiting for Mark to follow suite. He does, hopping down less dramatically and picking his way through the room to his own door. They make eye contact, nod, then both rush into the rooms. Mark closes the door behind him, counting down from 20.   
He runs over to the button, hand hovering;   
15  
He can hear Jack through the wall, shuffling.   
10  
His hand is shaking.  
5  
4  
3  
2  
1...

Mark's hand slams down hard on the button and he rushes to hide under the bed behind him. He hears Jack hit the button a just a moment later than he did.   
He hopes he's found a good hiding spot because the sound of a body hitting a door means that the variant is coming. He hears hinges breaking, rushed footsteps... He holds his breath: waits.   
A door breaks down.   
It isn't his. 

Mark rushes out from his hiding spot and bolts like a bat out of hell. His feet splash loudly in the water as he runs for the open door on the far side of the flooded room. He leaps up the steps and hits the wall in an attempt to turn quickly, still running full pelt toward the room with the electric switch. Vaulting over the upturned desk, he reaches the door and slams it open, rushing inside. He's already searching the room for the power lever, closing the door only as an afterthought. 

He spots the lever at the opposite end of the room and heads toward it, throwing his body into a downward pull that makes the walls whir to life.   
Mission accomplished.  
He leaps into the locker beside him and waits.   
It takes too long for the variant to show up; Mark's practically climbing out of the locker when the sound of flesh hitting wood startles him.   
It's here. 

He holds his breath, hoping that Jack has gotten to the button already. 

He waits. The large man is muttering, but Mark's blood is rushing in his ears. He can't hear it. It feels like time crawls by, the few seconds the Variant uses to check the room seeming more like an eternity. The footsteps patter away from the room and Mark takes a steadying breath before sneaking out of the locker and peeking out the doorway into the hall. Thankfully, the man has gone down the opposite side of the hall. Mark tries to sneak his way back to Jack, and he makes it a little past halfway before the variant is chasing him.   
His adrenaline drives him forward faster, reckless, and he leaps over the desk and back into the flooded room.   
"Mark!" Jack calls, and Mark sees him. He's standing in the entrance to the exit, waving his arms, and Mark runs for him.   
"Go!" He calls, leaping up into the hallway, splashing water up over his legs and Jack's retreating back. They run back to the crack in the wall, and up the stairs--

The path back to the security room is blocked by a gate, the only way forward is up the last flight of stairs. Without thinking, Mark pushes Jack behind him and climbs up to the door beyond. His heart speeds up as he reaches for the knob. It's unlocked, soundless as he pushes it open. 

"Congratulations, gentlemen; you’ve reached the halfway point."


	8. Thank God The Bathroom Locks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hoo boy

The sound of heels clicking against the polished concrete floor startles Phil to attention. He swivels slightly in the office chair, careful not to dislodge Dan who was resting against his shoulder.   
"Hey" Nicole says quietly, the small heels of her boots lifting off the floor as she tiptoes closer, "I've got some coffee for you two."   
She sets two paper cups on the desk where Phil is going over the data to reveal to the public. 

It smells amazing. 

Thank you." Phil smiles, a hand coming up to keep Dan from slipping. Nicole nods and heads back to where Hanayu is talking with Jack and Mark, who have just finished their levels. Phil turns back to the screen, making sure to highlight the scene of him and Dan in Five Nights at Freddie’s 2.   
He can't help but watch it, though; his hands on the larger boy.   
It's a bit of a rush to see it from an outside perspective. 

Dan stirs and Phil quickly lets the video continue, making sure to put in unnecessary jump-cuts for the phans. It only takes a few minutes for Phil to finish up writing editing notes and placing tags. Once done, Phil takes a swig of hot coffee, taps on the table for a minute... sighs, moving Dan from his shoulder and pushing his chair back to stand. He heads for the bathroom, across the room and down a little hall. 

Thankfully, the faucet is not automatic, so Phil lets it run, putting his head under the flow of water.   
It's refreshing; takes his mind off of the feeling of panic. The rush of life or death. Perhaps he likes it a little too much...   
"Phil?"   
It's that soft, half-asleep voice; one that Phil knows too well. He shoves his head further into the sink.   
"You okay?"   
Of course Dan wouldn't leave it alone. A large hand comes up to rest on his shoulder, and Phil pulls himself out from the sink, uncaring that his hair is sopping wet. Beside him, Dan removes his hand.   
"I thought maybe the games made you sick. You disappeared."   
Phil can't stop thinking of his hand on Dan's smooth skin; about the look of concern, that moment... He doesn't realize when, but somehow he's pressing Dan up against the counter, leaning him over the sink: kissing him. 

Dan's surprised squeak doesn't stop him.   
Dan tastes like coffee and the chocolate brownie Hanayu had given them earlier. Strong hands grip his arms and it only spurs him on. He licks across Dan's mouth, eliciting his name as a harsh gasp;  
"Phil!"  
Phil never really noticed his a bit of a power trip until now, as he's biting Dan's plush bottom lip with groan. 

It's always exciting, kissing Dan, but when the larger boy is under him, pressed roughly against a counter top with Phil's tongue in his mouth, well. He might be addicted; enough not to hear Dan's plea until he's shoved far enough away to stop kissing him.   
"Phil! The door isn't locked! What if someone comes in? Is this really the place to be doing... this!?"   
He's right, but Phil isn't letting him go just yet. Phil wraps his arm around Dan's back and pulls him around roughly, pinning him to the door and kissing at his neck and under his jaw. He knows Dan isn't one for conflict, but he doesn't want to upset him either, so he snakes a hand around and clicks the lock into place.   
"There" he murmurs, and his voice is a little deeper, a little gravelly with the desire to run his hands across every inch of Dan he's allowed. The quiet, reverent "Phil" that falls from his upturned face cascades over Phil's nerves and god, he's screwed.   
He's definitely losing his grip on reality.

He's somehow managed to get Dan's shirt rucked up over his chest as he runs pale hands over warm skin. Dan has his hand in his mouth to quiet the gasps and moans Phil pulls from him. When he pushes down under the hem of Dan's black jeans and over boney hips, Dan's entire body spasms. The deep, wanton "Oh." can't be stopped by his hand, and Phil knows they're both in over their heads now.   
It’s not that he wants sex; no.   
Sex is good, but right now, this feels like an affirmation.   
Like somehow, this will make Phil's nerves calm, like this will erase the animatronic hands that left bruises on his waist. Could undo the sight of Dan being dragged away, screaming: screaming for him. 

Phil bites down around Dan's ribs, his fingers gripping around a solid thigh as he pulls it up and presses himself harder against him. Dan's stuttering, not aloud but a desperate gasping.   
"Its okay, Phil" he's chanting, "I'm here."  
Phil doesn't realize he's crying until they're both on the floor, Dan cradling him in strong arms, tears dripping into already wet hair.   
"I'm sorry" Phil cries, and Dan shakes his head where it rests on his, pressing his face against the top of Phil's head.   
"Don't say that, Phil." Dan laughs, hollow. "Don't say that."  
They sit together on the floor for a while, caught up in each other. 

Eventually, they dissolve into quiet conversation, still holding each other close.  
"When they grabbed you, I couldn't move. I was so scared." Dan breathes.   
Phil nods,   
"I'm sorry." Phil responds. Dan laughs again, a little humor in it this time.   
"It grabbed me pretty hard." Phil says, lifting his shirt to reveal the large bruises in the shape of a hand; spanning all around his thin waist.   
Dan gasps.   
"When it was dragging me, it dislodged my contacts. I couldn't really see, couldn't move. I could only hear you screaming"   
Phil's chest is tight with the admission;   
"When it threw me into the next level, I couldn't get back. I tried, but... there was no way."   
Dan is running his fingers through Phil's hair, listening.   
"When you got taken, it's was like a slap to the face. I sat there and let you do everything yourself; I let you get taken away. I let it happen, I did nothing to stop it."   
He's crying again, quiet this time. Tears just flowing silently down pale cheeks.   
"I'm sorry."

When they rejoin the others, Phil's hair is mostly dry and Dan's eyes are only a little red. No one questions it, no one says anything, they just let them sit at their desk, a little too close. It's nice to have a little privacy.


	9. Back at it Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back at it again with those f e e l i n g s

Nicole welcomes them into the room beyond, handing each of them a water bottle.  
"There are some sweets on the desk for you," She says with a smile, "and all the footage is available for editing immediately. Whenever you're ready, we can get both of you set up."  
Jack nods, already halfway through his bottle. Beside him, Mark is only playing with his, looking around at all the monitors in the dark room.  
Whatever, he doesn't care.  
His face is hot because his blood sugar is low, not because he remembers Mark's half asleep voice calling his name...  
Jack rushes over to the desk and hurriedly shoves a blueberry muffin in his mouth.  
He isn't thinking about it!  
He's thinking about his girlfriend-- about beautiful smiles and soft touches, holding her to him while they sleep. 

About large, warm hands and safe embraces. 

Suddenly, he can't swallow.  
"I need to step outside; is there any way I can get out of here?" He asks, turning to look at Nicole. She looks surprised, but nods, motioning for him to follow her through a doorway labeled "Staff only" and down a staircase beyond. At the bottom is a glowing exit sign and Jack goes to push the door open below it when a hand stops him;  
"Jack."  
It's Nicole; her pretty face pinched in worry,  
"I won't ask about it, and I won't tell anyone where you are. I just need to know if you can get back alone or if you want me to wait here inside the door."  
He musters a little smile for her;  
"I can get back, thank you."  
She nods and starts back up the stairs. 

Once he can't hear her footsteps anymore, Jack rushes out the door and pulls his phone from his pocket. It's soaked, but it works.  
He dials Signe's number and waits while the phone rings.  
She doesn't pick up, so he calls again. 

This time, her voice filters through the line and Jack's never been so happy to hear it.  
"Sean?" she asks, her voice sounding sleepy.  
He'd forgotten there was a time difference between here and there.  
"Sorry, Wiish." He says, throat closing up, "I just needed to hear your voice."  
He can hear the covers on their bed rustle as she sits up;  
"What’s wrong?" She asks, worry clear in her voice, "What happened?"  
It takes him a second to swallow the frog, but he does it.  
"Nothing happened, baby. It's the halfway point of the event and I missed you." he lies.  
She sees through it, just as he knew she would. 

"It's about Mark, isn't it?"  
He can't help but laugh mirthlessly in answer; he doesn't keep secrets from her.  
He can't.  
Doesn't want to.  
"He called me babe." he admits.  
She's silent on her end of the line, and Jack knows she's angry at Mark, not at him, but it still stings a little. 

"During the game, I had a bit of a panic attack. He was there when I woke up; he was half asleep, had me cuddled up close. I accidently head-butted him in the chin..."  
He didn't even have to explain anymore, Signe was already out of bed, walking around, irritated.  
"We ended up in the same hotel, too."  
She sighs and Jack lets himself slump against the side of the building, looking out over the gloomy backyard. The grass is yellow, swaying in the light breeze and rain had fallen while he was inside, making the few trees nearby sag with added weight. It was so serene, the sound of small birds flitting around; singing.  
"You called me which means you feel some way." she says; "Tell me, Sean."  
God, he loves her. His heart swells with it, and he can feel the tears start to fall down his cheeks.  
"I hate him, Wiish. I mean, of course I don't, but it's been years. He's shut me out, lead me on, I feel like his toy and I hate it. I'm happy, with you I'm so happy, Wiish; but he's just reopening wounds he doesn't realize he's created."  
He itches to feel her hands on him, in his hair, hugging him; he misses her. 

"Listen to me, Sean."  
He can't help but obey;  
"Endure this, and make your choice. Don't let him stop you from helping all those people, from helping your charity. Don't let him control you, don't let him lead you by the nose. Stay aware; but open. Maybe something will happen and it will change everything. Don't use me as an excuse to make yourself miserable."  
Jack sobs into the phone, unable to stop;  
"Call me when you finish the game; I'm always here. I miss you; can't wait for you to come home."  
"I love you, Wiish"  
"I know. I love you too."  
It doesn't make him feel any less guilty for the way he's feeling, but it gives him a sense of drive. He wipes his face dry and sits down on the semi-dry ground by the building's overhang. He wants to go home, he wants this to be over. He doesn't want to go back inside and face Mark.  
Leaning back against the wall, he takes in the grey afternoon. It's enough to calm his inner turmoil for a little bit.  
"I miss you, Wiish." He says to the sky, tired smile stretching over his face. 

* * * 

Mark notices Jack's absence, but he doesn't ask about it. It isn't any of his business. Instead, he plants himself at his assigned desk and starts going over the footage. He's ten minutes in when Hanayu pulls Nicole aside and asks about Jack.  
"He's is outside; I suggest giving him his privacy. He knows his way back."  
Mark feels a little guilty, but there isn't much reason for it, so he turns back to his monitor and types in a few editing notes. 

He watches himself wandering the maze, watches himself shove Jack into the hole in the wall, and watches himself insult the other youtuber. His gut tightens when he sees the look on Jack's face in the camera's light, how hurt he is.  
How much it really affected him.  
Mark's fist clenches hard, then he highlights the fight and types out a note; Edit Out.  
He skips over the parts where they wander further, lets the part where Jack saves him stay in the final cut, cuts out all the parts where he's a little too close to the younger man.  
A little too familiar, a little too touchy.  
He watches himself being overprotective, cuts out the part where he catches Jack, still feeling the firm lines of his waist in his hands. 

Mark's sipping on his coffee when he sees himself being violently shoved through the glass by the outlast villain.  
That isn't what catches his eye though, no, it's Jack.  
It's the way he's pressed against the glass, tears in his eyes, screaming as Mark's body falls to the ground. The floor dips with the weight, but Jack's still screaming, watching Mark's body wiggle with the shock of the still settling floor. Without even hesitating Jack's leaping off the balcony, landing in the soft ground, rushing to his side to hold him gently. The smaller man pulls him to lean against a desk and it freezes there, cameral still focusing on Mark. He skips through the wait, tagging it, then resumes when Jack rushes back and drags him into the security room. Jack slaps him hard, and Mark snorts a little. When he reaches for the coffee and throws it on Mark, he finally understands the still lingering smell. 

Damnit Jack.

Mark watches as the giant pink monster opens Jack's locker and slams him around, watches him run out of the shot, then watches himself follow.  
It's tense and Mark's on the edge of his seat watching himself leap down the stairs and practically throw Jack into the next room. 

He tags the entire panic attack, not wanting to invade Jack's privacy, but can't help but stop when he sees Jack slam his face into Mark's chin. He rewinds, turns up the volume in his headphones and watches.  
"Ah! Shit!"  
Mark's eyes are trained on Jack, as he comes to reality.  
"Babe, c'mon, you hit me hard. How thick is your head?"  
Mark couldn't miss the slightly hurt look on Jack's face.  
It makes him feel guilty.  
Mark selects it to be cut and moves on. He's already done with his feed when Jack returns. It's clear that the smaller man has been crying, but Mark lets it go, standing up and heading for the bathroom. Something about this seemed... Off. 

* * * 

Jack sits at his desk, glad that Mark had left, and watches the footage from the last games. All of the edits Mark had made showed up as ghosts on his screen and he isn't surprised that most of the footage has been cut. He's even less surprised that he's taken out the fight; and therefore the insult. Jack wonders if he even regrets it.  
His mood sours, and he continues through the footage, leaving in half of what Mark hadn't. His vomiting doesn't make the final cut, neither does his panic attack, but everything else is fine. He doesn't lie. He wants this all out in the open. He wants closure.  
"Hey, Jack."  
It's Nicole again, her smile sweet and coffee in hand.  
"It's got chocolate in it; it might make you feel a little better."  
He smiles at her genuinely.  
"Thanks a lot, Nicole."  
He takes the coffee from her and it smells amazing; like fresh espresso and milk chocolate. It's not too sweet, thankfully, it's just a comforting sort of flavor that lets his muscles unwind. She smiles wider and heads back to where Hanayu is looking over Dan and Phil's edits. He stands and walks over to the pair;  
"Hey, uh, Hanayu?" he calls.  
They look up instantly;  
"What’s up?"  
"How much longer will we have until the rest of the game starts?" he asks.  
"Another twenty minutes." They say, pushing themselves up off the back of Phil's empty chair motions for Jack to follow her through the same door that Nicole had lead him through earlier.  
The sound of tapping heels means that Nicole is following. 

Instead of heading downstairs, Hanayu swipes their card at a door nearby and ushers him inside. The room is dim, but it's covered in windows, filled with water and snacks and comfy chairs.  
"This is another employee breakroom, for the ones who work down in Vanish or Outlast. Since this is our opening weekend, we have limited staff. It'll be empty for another few hours. You can hang out in here for the time being, it looks like you could use a break."  
They toss him something.  
"Use that if you get locked out. I'll need it back once the game starts."  
It's a key card, a picture of Hanayu smiling awkwardly adorning it. Jack can't help but laugh.  
Hanayu smiles and shuts the door on their way out. 

* * * 

"Hey, wake up. It's time to go."  
Groggily, Jack pushes himself up.  
"Wiish?" he asks.  
"It's Nicole; let’s get you up."  
He rubs his eyes and looks around. He must have fallen asleep in the breakroom. Nicole pulls the keycard from his neck and pulls him up gently. He stands on his own, following her from the room back to where the others were. 

"There he is." Hanayu says, standing at the front of the gamer group.  
"Alright; let’s get back to business. You've all been treated; except Jack."  
Jack does a mental checklist of pain, and finds none.  
"I'm fine."  
They nod but hand him a few pills;  
"For the neck injury and the nausea." they whisper.  
He pops them in his mouth and steals Dan's water to wash them down.  
"You'll be switching levels for the next half, so Dan and Phil will be headed downstairs with Nicole, and Mark and Jack will head upstairs with me."  
Nicole already has Dan and Phil in tow as Hanayu leads them back toward the stairs and into another glass elevator.  
"Good luck." they say, making eye contact with Jack. With a nod, they push a button on the wall and the two of them are sealed into the elevator as it jerks upwards.  
He shoves his hands in his pockets and turns away from Mark.


	10. Victory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> :3

Dan reaches out to hold Phil's arm as the elevator door open, his nerves raising the hair on his neck and arms.   
Phil stands bravely as the doors open to reveal a dank hallway, damp and smelling of mold and wet and dust.  
The thickness of the air makes them both cough harshly.   
"Let’s go" Phil whispers, taking his hand and leading him forward. They crawl through the small opening in the iron gate and continue down one of the dark brick hallways. The light here is so dim that Dan can barely see, which mean's Phil definitely can't see a single thing.   
It's really only luck that helps them find the note attached to the wall, half ripped;   
"Hey! I think I left the Keys in the boiler room!" was the only readable part. 

Dan tugs Phil forward through the halls slowly, looking for a change in temperature. There were no signs of life in the halls, but there were small tunnels and holes dug low in the walls. Dan's hackles were still raised and he listened intently for any sign of monsters, or murderers, or ghosts...   
Phil sneezed violently, and it echoed through the halls. Dan pushes him up against the wall, hand over his mouth.   
"I think there's something in here." he whispers, terrified.   
He can see Phil's disturbed too.   
"Let’s try and be quiet." Phil whispers back.   
They tiptoe through the halls, avoiding puddles and trying to find warmth, but it seems wholly uneventful until they come across the boiler room, and subsequently the keys. 

"That was too easy." Dan warns as Phil picks up the set of keys. Phil nods in agreement,   
"True, but I won’t look a gift horse in the mouth. I want this to be over with."   
Dan can't help but agree as they shuffle out the opposite side of the room.   
Just outside the doorway are two massive, hulking things that snuffle around blindly. Dan shrieks, and Phil grabs him by the hand and bolts back the way they had come. The giant monsters are following them, too fast and too tall to be human at all. It's terrifying and Dan can't help but trip over himself as they try to escape. Phil throws him down by one of the boilers and joins him, hiding in the small area between base and bend. Phil's hand is over his mouth as both the fleshy bodies’ streak past their hiding place without a second glance. 

Terrified, they wait a moment, but it's too loud in the boiler room, and too hot to stay much longer.   
"Go, fast!" Phil commands, and Dan's standing up, rearing to go; "There was a ladder behind them, climb it!"  
Phil presses the keys into his hand and pushes Dan away, crouching back down in his hiding space.   
"I'll be right behind you!" he calls, and Dan runs. Runs to the ladder, fumbles with the key to unlock the gate around it, and he climbs to the top, staring down at the base.   
Where's Phil?   
He's a little frantic, climbing down a few rungs to look around.   
"Phil?" he whispers harshly.   
There's no reply. 

Dan's about to climb down the ladder and search for Phil when he comes running toward him, creatures’ right behind.   
"Climb!" Phil screams, and Dan does. He climbs like his life depends on it, all the way to the top, not looking back until Phil shrieks in agony.   
"Phil!?"   
The monsters have the older man by the legs, attempting to pull him away from the ladder while he kicks them as hard as he can. It doesn't seem to affect them, and his grip is loosening.   
"Go Dan!" Phil calls, pulling harder against the monsters.  
"I'm not leaving you!" Dan cries, ignoring the cliché situation to climb down a few rungs; "Not again!"  
There's a pain in Phil's face, but he reaches out a hand for Dan to grasp, and he does, pulling against the monsters with all his might. 

Together they heave, but the monsters are still too strong, still pulling hard enough to injure. Phil is screaming in pain, and Dan can feel his heart rate in the pale wrist. It's fast, too fast...   
The monsters let go, just stand there at the bottom of the ladder as Dan pulls Phil up to the top. Up onto a massive construction setup.   
"Dan!" Phil groans, "Dan, I think they broke my ankle."   
Dan pulls his foot into his lap and hikes up the leg of Phil's skinny jeans. His ankle is swollen and there is a sign of bruising, but it isn't bent in the wrong way or poking out of the skin.   
"I think it's a sprain." Dan says, touching the bruising skin gently. Phil flinches harshly. Beside them, a panel of wall brightens; a screen. Dan leans in and reads the message aloud;   
"Do you need medical assistance?"  
Phil looks at Dan, then nods.   
"Yes!" Dan calls, hoping that was the correct response. The monitor flashes a confirmation and dims back into the wall as Dan sighs in relief. It'll be fine. 

To his surprise, Darren climbs up the ladder with them not five minutes later, taking Phil's injured foot in hand and inspecting it. Sure enough, it's only a sprain, but Darren wraps it tightly and places and ice pack over the bone.   
"Keep that on as long as you can to counteract the swelling." Darren instructs, closing his first aid kit and setting it aside.   
"Do you want to go on with the final level, or would you rather withdraw?"  
Phil looks at Dan, then back at Darren. Dan puts his hand on Phil's shoulder, comforting.   
"You should sit this out, Phil. I can handle the last level alone."   
Phil's face crumples and Darren turns away;   
"Dan..." It's a sad little whimper, almost a desperate plea.  
"Its okay, its one level. We can't give up Phil, not now! What about our fans? If we can do it, think of how many of them will be inspired to do hard things too!"   
It's true, but Phil can't let it go, can't shake the image of him being dragged down a dark hallway where Phil can't follow.   
"I'll continue." he decides. Darren nods and starts down the ladder again: "Good luck"

* * *

Phil struggles over the window sill and into the room, but doesn't accept Dan's assistance. He isn't incapable; he doesn't need protection. He needs to protect Dan. Limping slightly, he heads for the door at the far side of the room and down the hallway, not bothering to explore any rooms on the way, just pushing through the blockade and into the breakroom. The stench hits him straight in the nostrils and he staggers back a little, pressing his hand to his nose. It smells of death and rot, as quickly as he can, he launches himself into the vent and struggles to pull himself up. Behind him, Dan dry heaves.   
"Come on, Dan!" Phil calls, "It smells better up here!"   
Dan hurries toward him, vaulting up into the vent much easier than Phil. Maybe he needed to work out more, he ponders with a frown. 

Together, they shuffle to the end of the vent and drop down to the floor, Phil stumbling and falling down to his knee when his sprained ankle hits the ground. He's up again before Dan can see as he drops ungracefully from the vent onto his behind. Phil's already opening the door to the library when Dan catches up, and the smell wafting out is enough to make Phil's nose bleed.   
Dan coughs, wretches, then pukes up the brownie he had eaten earlier.   
"Ugh!" He cries, "Fuck!"   
Phil puts Dan's arm around his shoulders and helps the larger boy to his feet and into the dark room, completely ignoring the man as he rants about variants and escaping. There was only one way out, and Phil was going to get them through it. 

Phil throws open the door out of the library and pulls Dan along quickly, shoving him through the gap ahead and fitting himself in behind, still limping.   
"Little pig!"  
Shit. Phil reaches for Dan to pull him away, to safety, but the massive pink monstrosity already has him by the neck. Dan's screeching in fear as Phil pushes himself through the gap and throws himself at the variant.   
"Let him go!" Phil rages, throwing his full weight into the man’s chest, dislodging him enough to let go of Dan. He's screaming Phil's name from the floor where he's landed as the pink man seizes Phil by the arm and tosses him like a rag doll, before reaching for Dan again. Phil lands in a pile of books, too soft to be made of paper, and attempts to rush back into the fray, to save Dan--  
"Phil!" 

There's a slight accent, a slur to Dan's voice when he's panicked. It's the older man's least favorite sound, especially when it's his name being screamed at the top of Dan's lungs. He watches as Dan goes through the glass, whiplash sending his head around fast; hard. He's gone, not home, out like light as he's thrown to the floor below.   
"No!"   
Phil runs for the ledge, leaping over without thought and scrambling over the uneven surface toward his lover.   
"Dan!" he cries, lifting the large body into his arms and cradling him. He presses kisses to the split forehead;   
"Come on, Dan!" he whispers against dark curls, "Wake up, bear."   
Tears pour down into soft hair when there’s no response.   
Phil presses his fingers against a tan wrist and there's a pulse.   
He feels under Dan's nose-- he's breathing steadily.   
He's both relieved and heartbroken, Phil holds Dan's fallen body close, and he waits. Waits for long eyelashes to flutter and for brown eyes to focus; for Dan to whimper and reach for him. 

"Phil?"

The older man covers Dan with his entire body, pushing the younger down into the soft floor and hugging him tightly. Dan responds by wrapping his arms around the other, feeling tears start to leak.   
Dan sobs, and Phil lets him, his tears already dry. 

They stay wrapped up in each other; touching, sobbing, until Phil pushes himself up and plants a wet kiss to the side of Dan's mouth.   
"Don't you ever get thrown out a window again." Phil laughs weakly. Dan laughs too, wet and relieved.   
"Never." He promises, pulling Phil down into another, proper kiss. Again, they pull each other close, hold on tight.   
"Let's get out of here." Phil murmurs, and Dan nods. They rise, dust themselves off, and head for the room with monitors shining brightly. 

Trailing blood behind, they make their way past the man in the wheelchair, carefully, and into the room where the men sit, lights out inside. Dan rushes in and snatches the key card, running back to Phil's side in fear. They wander back the way they came, past the static TV and out into the hall. 

"Phil" Dan warns, "The wheelchair guy jumps at you on your way back."  
Phil nods and starts toward him, ready to leap out of the way... but the man doesn't so much as finch as Phil walks past him. Worried, Phil walks past again. No reaction. He motions for Dan to come, and the brunette hurries to join him. This time, however, the man propels himself out of the chair and leaps toward Dan. Phil barely has time to pull the taller boy away, being pushing him down to the floor instead, struggling as the man spits nonsense into his face.   
"Get off him!" Dan's hands wrap around the sticky man's shoulders and he heaves him off. Phil rolls to the side and limps a few feet down the hall, Dan hot on his heels.

They race toward the security room, avoiding any suspicious rooms. Dan lifts the keycard to the system and the doors unlock with a click. Inside, Dan heaves the door shut as Phil starts typing away at the keyboard.   
"I saw Jack's footage" Phil rants, "The left locker will be opened, we have to share the right one."  
He presses enter on the keyboard, and videos fill the many monitors. Phil shoves Dan into the right locker and climbs in behind him. It's tight and Dan has to hold the door shut for them to be hidden, but it works. When the door flies off its hinges, Dan presses his face into Phil's shoulder, shaking in fear.   
It worked.   
They wait for a minute, until they're sure the monster isn't coming back.   
"I don't know what to do after this, Phil." Dan admits as they climb out of the locker, "I never made it past this part of the game."

* * *

Phil leads Dan down the stairs and into the flooded rooms below, picking through the trash ridden water, down the hall and into the large breaker room.   
"We have to press a button in each of those rooms, then flip a switch down there." Phil whispers, pointing. "I saw it in Mark's video."  
"I always knew you were a snoop, but this feels like cheating." Dan complains, following the other boy down into the water and around to one of the rooms.   
"I'll push this button, you get the other." Phil says, opening the door and wandering inside. He spots the switch and pushes it, the loud whirring startling him. He runs out and over to where Dan is pushing his own button when the sound of someone breaking down a door makes his heart sink. 

The only hiding place is an old, rickety bed frame, but it'll have to do. Both of them dive to the floor and wiggle under the metal as the door outside flies from its hinges and sloshing footsteps head for the room they're hiding in. Dan has his hands over his mouth and nose to quiet his breathing, and Phil can't take his eyes off the massive feet patrolling the room. It feels like an eternity has passed before the variant leaves and Dan and Phil crawl out from under the bed and peek out into the larger room. The man had moved on to the other room.  
"This is our chance!" Phil whispers, splashing through the room and into the broken doorway. 

They have to flip that switch.

Phil books it down the hallway and practically throws himself into the room at the end, stumbling in and crashing loudly into a shelf. He rushes for the switch and throws it with all his might, spinning back toward the exit and facing his pursuant head on. The Variant had chased him in favor of Dan, who had tripped over the desk blocking the hallway. It had followed him into the room and now raises a bat to swing at his head. Phil ducks, barely missing the swing, and rolls forward, twisting his neck uncomfortably. He trips his way into the hall and sprints, his best impression of injured, cooked pasta, all the way back to where Dan huddles against solid desk. 

"Let’s go!" Phil calls, leaping over the obstruction and rushing for the final button. Dan's right behind him as he sloshes up to the generator and brings it to life. Finally, they're done. Phil snatches Dan's hand and runs, out of breath but high on adrenaline. He pulls the taller boy behind him, running through water, upstairs, to the door that Jack and Mark had come through--   
"Finally!"   
Phil pulls Dan flush against him; kisses him soundly, presses his dry tongue into Dan's pliant mouth. He feels like he could do anything; he...  
"Dan"  
He murmurs.  
Brown eyes flutter open, locked on his own.   
"Will you marry me?"


	11. The Apex of Everything

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's finally over...

Jack steps out onto dark soil, the smell of fresh rain and wet grass wafting around the strange forest. His sneakers sink slightly, padded by mud. It's too quiet.   
Too dark.   
Just an hour before, he had been out in the afternoon gloom. Now, he was under a sky filled with stars; surrounded by forest. Behind him, Mark shuffles out of the elevator, taking a look around with a huff.   
"Looks like Slender." he says, starting toward the forest.   
Jack frowns, trailing after him. 

"I think we should split up." he says after a while, eyes on the ground. He sees Mark's footsteps falter, but doesn't stay to hear him talk.   
His feet carry him around the edge of the fence, jogging away from the other man.   
He wants to leave, wants this to end, so he pushes himself to move a little faster.   
He jogs around, looking for obvious pages; managing to find one planted on a car and another between two rocks. Feeling confident, he speeds up, heads center. 

He finds another page on an abandoned truck. 

It's only when he finds the bathroom that his nerves return. Carefully, he heads inside, keeping against the walls so Slender has no way of sneaking up on him. Circles around the confusing interior, avoids the chair-- the page is there. He runs for it, snatches it, turns and presses his back against the wall. There's a tingling sensation in his fingers, crawling its way up his body, over his throat and suffocating him.   
In a panic, he runs; runs out of the bathroom, into the forest... hears the heavy drums, beating alongside the sound of his heart as he covers ground.   
He ends up at the tree in the center of the level, where another page flutters. He reaches out and takes it, crumples it in his fist. He has four. Four of eight pages. He hangs his head as thoughts of his conversation with Signe filter through his mind. He can't even really focus on the task at hand; too fucking caught up in Mark and the feelings he'd thought he was already over. He punches the rough bark in frustration, cries happy tears when the skin breaks.   
He laughs to himself. "God, I'm fucked up."

* * *

Mark watches Jack run.   
His chest tightens with guilt and he even takes a few steps toward the smaller man before he loses sight of him. He feels lost for a second, confused, before it turns to irritation.   
Why did he run?   
What did Mark do?   
Angrily, he trudges in the opposite direction, picking his way through the trees and brushes. He finds his first page in a concrete tunnel; it's eerie and Mark wants to leave it immediately.   
So he does, runs out and in a random direction, finding a rock formation near the limit fence. He pulls the page from the dusty surface and wanders off again. 

The drums kick in before he reaches his next page. He knows, logically, that Jack had to have gotten some pages for the music to play so loud, and he hesitates to pick up the rouge paper blowing across the ground. He has three pages, now, and there's only one place he's sure to find another; the old tree in the center of the map. Attempting to get his bearings, Mark heads away from where he had come, near the gate. It takes a bit, the music thumping louder, harder. It's an intense five-ish minute walk. 

When he reaches the tree, there is a page, and he takes it. Only four left.   
Mark starts to round the tree when a loud thump startles him. He rushes around to see if its Jack, just as a broken little sob breaks the litany of drums and tension.   
"God."  
He hears.  
"I'm fucked up."

Mark sees Jack: he's crying, his fist bloody from punching the tree.   
He rushes to him, pulls the smaller frame from the tree.   
"What are you doing!?" he rages, taking the bloody hand into his own and wrapping it in the hem of his tee-shirt to help stop the blood flow. He moves to pull away, yanking his hand in an attempt to break free.   
"Stop it, Sean. You can't run from this! From me!"

The music has stopped and fat drops of rain have started dripping from the artificial ceiling, fat and heavy, leaving puddles in the already damp mud around them. Jack's eyes are wide and impossibly blue and Mark can't take his eyes off them. It's cliché and dramatic that the rain gets worse and both of them are starting to soak to the bone. Sean's hair sticks to his forehead as he stares.   
Mark's still angry, he's tense, ridged.   
He isn't expecting Sean to grab him by the collar and yank him down into an awkward kiss. 

Teeth bump hard and Mark accidently bites his lip, but neither pull away.   
It evolves into a real kiss; soaking wet and warm as they pull each other closer, gripping harder. Mark runs his tongue over Sean's mouth like a question, pecking the corner of his thin lips.   
He gasps slightly at the action, his own tongue peeks out to catch the tip of Mark's kiss.   
Mark groans, deep and possessive, as he presses Sean further into the tree behind them, his tongue delving deep into Sean's mouth. They both taste like coffee; a little bitter, a little sweet...   
Mark's hand shoves its self-up Sean's shirt, running fingers against warm skin, over bumpy ribs. His head slams back against the tree in pleasure; but tears are pouring down his face. Mark tries to kiss them away; but Sean's dissolving into messy sobs. 

"Why now!?" he sobs, hands coming up to cover his eyes, "Why after all this time!? After I gave up!?"  
Mark pulls his hand out of San's shirt, and attempts to pull his arms off his face.   
"Sean..." He tries, "Sean!"  
"I have a girlfriend." Sean cries, "I love her! She's the best thing in my life right now!"   
He's dissolving into bigger and bigger sobs, shaking from the cold and the exertion.   
"I wish I never came here."  
Mark feels that like a punch to the gut, flinching hard.   
"I wish I never met you."  
Yeah, it hurts a lot to hear that... Mark's head hangs.   
"I wish I never fell in love with you."

\\* * * 

The silence stretches out for eternity as Mark wracks his brain for instances where the feeling he's drowning in started.   
It's guilt; partially because he knew he was leading the younger man on.   
Letting him think they were friends, letting him think they were close.   
Before, they could have been; but Mark had ruined it with a pointless, self-imposed distance when he realized that maybe he likes the Irishman a little more than he should.   
And so did the internet.   
Sean's breathing steadily now, staring up at the sky. He still has his arms around Mark's neck, like a weird hug. 

Mark's face is buried in the junction between neck and shoulder; and he enjoys it. Want's to have this be a regular occurrence.   
He sighs.   
"Sean?"  
He doesn't respond verbally, but his arms shift to let Mark's face lift to talk better.   
"I... I don't love you."   
He flinches, but stays silent.   
"I pushed you away to keep myself... my reputation safe; but I regret it. I always have. I miss our skype calls and our visits. Our collabs. I missed you, Jack."  
"But you don't love me." he's crying again and Mark hugs him close.   
"I want a chance to love you, Sean."   
The crying gets louder.   
"Will you give me a chance?"  
Jack's voice is broken when it filters down with the rain;   
"I don't think I can..."

* * *

Once they detangle, the floor beneath them opens and they tumble down into a pile of cloth. Mark's the first one out of the pile, stumbling over to the monitor and sitting heavily on the office chair. 

Sean stays in the pile, unwilling to push himself up and back into the fray. 

The familiarity of Five Nights of Freddy's keeps Mark from looking back at Sean. Keeps him from thinking about how and where he went wrong.   
For a while, it's just silence as Mark scrambles from left to right, watching the screens and shifting the cameras.   
It's only when Mark rushes to keep Foxy from getting in and Chica bursts in from the opposite direction that Sean bothers to move. 

Well, Chica decides to move him. 

Massive, metal hands grasp him around the middle, crushing him, and dragging him from the room roughly. He grunts in pain, little gurgled exclamations as he locks eyes with Mark before the hallway swallows him and he's tossed carelessly into another room.   
Another game. 

* * * 

Sean's alright at Five Night's at Freddie’s, especially now that he's emotionally stunted. His fingers click rapidly in every room, shining the light and winding the music box. It isn't long before he's multitasking in the Freddy head, just going through all the motions, keeping everything at bay. 

By the time Mark runs into the room, the 6AM chime rings out through the room and he vaults the table and rushes down the hallway into the next level. 

Of course it lets out into a creepy office with one chair and two pads. He rushes to sit, pulling the main console down to interact with, spamming children’s voices across the map while Mark resets every system in tandem. There's one slip up; the ventilation spewing out thick smoke that make both Mark and Jack cough harshly and their vision swims a little.   
It's not enough to distract Sean from finishing. 

Once the chime begins, Sean is heading for the exit again, almost running into the child’s bedroom of the fourth game. Irritated, he throws himself on the bed and screams into the pillow.   
The twenty minutes it takes to keep all the pop-out animatronics away seems like an eternity. He's out the side door before 6AM, dashing for the door at the end of the hall as the song starts to play. He yanks it open and steps inside--  
"Welcome to the first day of your exciting new career. We welcome you. I will be your guide to help you get started!" 

* * * 

The elevator ride is painful, the tension between both men suffocating. Of course, Sean powers through; crawling into the vent and slamming every button on the way to Circus Baby's room.   
Mark follows, subdued.   
It takes no time for him to spam the shock button and trigger Baby's voice; but by that time he's already under the desk. 

Mark shoves himself under the desk as well, pressing himself against the smaller body, leg wedged between Jacks. He holds the desk shut tight, but he never looks at it. His attention is caught on Sean, again.   
Blue eyes are flitting between the tapping machines and Mark's own eyes; like he's trying not to look. When Baby's voice comes back online; Mark lets the panel go and his hands grasp Jack by the arms, pulling him up over his chest as he shifts onto his back. 

He kisses him. 

Sean plants his hands firmly over Mark's pecs, almost pushing away, but Mark's already grabbed them. He doesn't move them, doesn't take Sean's chance at escape, he only cradles strong fingers in his own. Over and over, Mark captures plumping lips, leading Sean down to rest soundly against him. He raises his leg and Sean slides down to rest on it, gasping on contact. Mark hums lowly, hands moving up strong arms and down a bumpy spine. The feeling of Sean shuddering above him is exciting.   
Sean moaning his name quietly in an attempt to be restrained? Intoxicating. 

Mark's fingers dig into his hips, his thumb hooking into the bone.  
"Oh!"   
Sean's gasping at the contact, "Mark!"   
He groans; kneading muscled hips with abandon; seeking Sean's lips again.   
"When your guide comes back online, he is going to tell you he was unsuccessful."  
Sean pulls away and Mark growls in frustration;  
"That you must reset the system manually; he will then tell you to crawl through Ballora gallery as fast as you can-"  
Sean is scrambling out from under the desk, rushing for the vent, and starting toward Ballora's gallery. Mark pulls himself out to follow, crawling through the small space and into a dark room where the other man kneels, waiting.   
He puts a slender finger to his kiss bitten lips, then starts forward on all fours. Mark certainly doesn't mind the view; following across the dusty floor and watching for the massive ballerina.

When they reach the breaker room, Mark pulls open the box and Sean stands beside him with one hand on Mark's shoulder. As the lookout, Sean taps twice when Freddy and Bonnie get to close, and in response, Mark shuts the box and distracts them. It's an agonizing few minutes, resetting the system, but when the lights flood the room, both youtubers are relieved to be finished with this whole ordeal. 

When they step through the newly lit door, it's the same room they had left, the halfway point. 

"Welcome back, boys." Hanayu calls, pulling Sean away from Mark by the arm.   
When he reaches for him, gripping his opposite arm hard, Nicole bends his fingers back and removes it.   
"If you don't mind, Mr. Fishbach; we have something to discuss with Mr. Mcloughlin. Alone."   
They lead him through the 'Staff only' door and Mark is left alone in the dark room. 

There are water bottles and sandwiches on an empty desk, but Mark seats himself in the chair he had occupied earlier and starts scrolling through the new captured footage instead.   
His footage.   
He watches himself pin the smaller man against a tree and ravish him, and it isn't as exciting as doing it.   
He cuts it from the released edit, along with the moment under the desk, but he leaves everything else. 

There's a sense of crushing guilt when he sees Sean's tearstained face staring at the sky, weeping because of him.   
It's a sting just under the skin. 

* * *

Sean is deposited onto a plush chair as both Nicole and Hanayu sit across from him, arms linked. For a moment, the room is silent.   
"I need to know if I should call the authorities." Hanayu says quietly, eyes downcast.   
Nicole tightens her hold on them;  
"We saw-- obviously, what happened at the tree... I should have intervened..."  
He stops her, his hand reaching across the gap and resting against his hand on her knee. She looks up and meets his eyes.   
"This is something I have to deal with. It's something I've gotten myself into, my responsibility. Thank you for your concern but; I’ll handle it."  
Hanayu nods, and Nicole grasps his hand gently, imploringly, reassuringly. She doesn't say anything, and he's is grateful for it.

They sit for another minute before Hanayu stands and starts for the door.   
"Let’s get you out of here." they say, "It's been a busy day."   
He nods and stands, following them out the door and back into the room with the other, who is watching his footage on the monitors.   
He catches Mark watching himself pressing him against the tree, touching him.   
Hanayu and Nicole are frozen in the doorway, but Sean is looking at Mark's face.   
His reaction.   
It's guilt and desire, its...   
He shakes his head.   
Now isn't the time for any of this.


	12. Home at Last

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SEXUAL CONTENT AHEAD: you have been warned.

Phil doesn't knock on the door, he's too busy drinking in his fiancé’s yes.   
His lips are pattering across Dan's face, over his eyes and on the corners of his smiling mouth.   
He's giggling in the way that Phil lives for, and Phil's the cause. It's such an elating feeling and they're both high on it.   
"Congratulations!" A voice calls, and both of them startle, whirling to see the pink monstrosity with its head off. Underneath is a tall woman, hair tied back. She smiles, wide and happy, then tacks on; "No worries, I won’t tell!"  
Face red, Phil finally knocks on the door, and Nicole is there in seconds, throwing open the door with a bright look on her face. She doesn't comment, instead stepping out of the way and ushering them inside. 

She's got a box of chocolates for them, and their station all set up. It only takes a few minutes to finalize the second feed edits, and once they're done, they're being carted downstairs and driven back to their hotel. It's quiet in the heated backseat of the blacked out Range Rover; but Dan won’t let go of Phil's pale hand.   
Later, when they fall asleep in the same queen bed in their double room, cuddled up and smiling; they'd admit to themselves and each other that this entire trip was a mistake they would never, ever, make again.   
Even if it was the push they needed to admit they'd never let each other go.

* * * 

When they arrive home in London, they're relieved that none of Phil's houseplants are beyond resuscitation, and that Dan's succulents are still thriving. Of course, the plants are the closest thing to children they can have right now, even if it's a poor substitute. They haven't been home an hour before Phil throws on a coat and rushes out of the house. Dan isn't sure what's happened, but he tries not to let it bother him. He'll clean the recent coat of dust from the house, make himself busy. Phil will come back; Phil always comes back. 

Dan takes a few minutes to process, happy to be off of the plane, away from the games, and the horror... a minute to process the fact that he was going to marry Phil.   
It'll no longer be Dan and Phil, best friends on the internet.   
No, it would be the Lester’s, or maybe the Howells?   
Dan's anxiety is starting to take root, his chest tightening; a hand coming to rest against his heart:   
Who would he be, now? Not Daniel Howell anymore, no. No longer the man with the black aesthetic, a dog lover, creative video-blogger, author; but Phil's husband, because Phil shines so much brighter than he does.   
Dan's a dark presence, the dark void of space to Phil's bright supernova. 

It's getting darker outside, but it's also getting darker in Dan's mind. He's falling into the pit again, he realizes it, and he can't stop it. Never can.   
Beside him, his phone chimes, the brightness enough to distract him so he picks it up. It's a message from Phil's mother;   
"I heard the news, congratulations son."

Dan reads it again. Reads it over and over. He doesn't realize he's crying until Phil's running up to him, holding him.   
"Dan! Baby, what's wrong?"   
Dan can't answer through the sobs, still staring at the phone, still reading the message. Phil takes the phone away from him and looks at it, then tosses it away and puts his hands on Dan's face, leading him to make eye contact gently.   
"Dan, look at me."  
Dan does, after a moment, eyes red and puffy.  
"What are you thinking?"  
Dan shakes his head;  
"I just... Who will I be if I marry you?" He asks, voice broken. Phil's usually bright face dims with sadness for a second before pinching in irritation. Dan's almost afraid Phil will leave, won't come back, and he's grabbing onto his wrist in an unthought out attempt to keep him close.   
Here. 

Phil's face falls again, this time in determination;   
"Dan, have I ever done anything to change you?" Asks Phil gently.   
Dan shakes his head,   
"No, no, of course not." he sputters; nothing Phil does is wrong in his eyes.   
"Do you think that marrying me is a bad decision?" Phil's voice is tight, choked.   
Without hesitance, Dan has Phil's face in his hands, yanking the older man toward him and crying new tears.  
"How!?" Dan exclaims, "How can anything with you be a bad decision!?"  
Phil's hands tighten around his cheeks.   
"You're the best thing to ever happen to me, Phil."  
"Then why are you confused, Dan. Why do you think that being with me, my husband, will change you in any way?"  
The fog in Dan's brain lifts a little with the realization that, no, Phil could never change him. Would never even try.  
"I'm sorry."  
Dan's voice is small, tired.  
"I'm sorry. It's always like this, I'm always..." Dan's eyes screw shut in disappointment; "I'm always like this."  
"It doesn't make me love you any less." 

After a few solemn minutes, they end up ordering takeout and snuggling up in a blanket on the couch.   
They watch a few shows they missed during their trip, hands covered in sauce, kisses sloppy with grease. It's nice, and then it gets late, and they have to shuffle to their room, socks slipping on the wooden floor while they laugh together, wrapped up in the same blanket. When they fall into bed, the room still messy, Phil's already got Dan by the waist, fingers under the black tee-shirt. Dan's laughs fizzle into a soft sigh as he shifts under him;  
"Phil?"  
It's a breathy question, charged with the circles Phil's rubbing into his skin. Phil only dips down to capture his mouth, kissing him with gentle love and care. It sends sparks careening down his skin; electricity, like a livewire. 

Phil's mouth leaves wet kisses down his neck, across his collarbone and ribcage. Warm fingers across his stomach, down his sides.   
Dan's writhing in pleasure, Phil's mouth over one nipple and his fingers rolling over the other. His shirt's been rolled up to his armpits, Phil's attention heading lower and lower until his jeans are unzipped and Phil's hands are pushing hard into his hip bones. Dan can't help but groan, hips raising into the touch, itching for it.   
"Phil!"  
The man shudders, growling low in his chest as his hands slip under Dan's thighs and lift them so he can rest in-between. Phil's head drops next to Dan's ear and he murmurs, voice low with arousal;   
"I think all that yoga is paying off."

* * *

Dan's spine tingles with the sensation of Phil's voice in his ear, hips bucking into the heavy weight of Phil's hips. Phil laughs a little, then sits up and yanks Dan's pants down, struggling to pull the tight fabric from his legs. Once free, he reaches for his boxers, half way up his thighs from being stuck to his pants, and he pulls them off as well. The blanket has fallen from his shoulders, but it's still soft against Dan's back as it lays out over their bed.   
"I can't believe that I'll have this, you, in my bed for the rest of my life." Phil says in wonder, eyes roving over Dan's naked body, eyes half lidded in arousal.   
He pulls Dan's legs up, slotting his hands into Dan's bent knees and leaning forward to fold the taller boy over. Dan grunts in surprise as he settles against him; pushing hard against his backside. Still clothed, Phil feels rough against his sensitive skin.   
"Clothes!" he gasps, "Phil, please"

Phil doesn't need to be told twice, he's already shimmying out of his shirt and throwing it to the floor. He has to pull away from Dan to wiggle out of his pants, but as soon as they're off, his entire body covers Dan's and he kisses him thoroughly. His hands are back under Dan's legs, pulling them up by the knee.   
"Can I touch you?" Phil whispers against Dan's lips, fingers crawling down over the backs of his thighs. Dan nods emphatically, hands coming around Phil's back as he pulls him down into another kiss. Pale hands caress tan legs, coming around to prod at Dan's behind. The he moans into Phil's kisses, legs falling apart, giving Phil easier access. Distracted, Phil rustles around in the drawer beside the bed, fumbling for the small tube of lubricant they keep there. It's cold and thin when he pours it on his fingers, rubbing it all around the tight pucker, warming it and riling his partner. Dan moans under him, hands reaching up to touch Phil's thin chest, dark hands stark on pale skin as they roam. 

Phil presses a finger into the ring of muscle; gentle and slow until Dan's squirming under him, large hands griping his body in pleasure.   
"Phil" he pleads.   
He pours more gel on his fingers, then pushes another in beside the first, rocking them in and out easily, drinking in the boy writhing under him.   
Because of him.   
He upturns the bottle and soaks Dan's skin with it; another finger pushing in and twisting. He watches Dan's face pinch, mouth open and close; then presses a final finger inside.   
It's still gentle, still loving.   
Dan moans, his feet planting down into the mattress as he bends into Phil's touch.   
"Phil" Dan breathes, "Phil, come on, please"

He doesn't need to be asked twice; leaning over the edge of the bed to grab one of the dirty shirts to wipe the sticky liquid from his hands before shifting Dan to his side and pressing himself flush behind him.   
He presses kisses to his neck as he presses himself into the younger man. Dan's fingers grip the sheets tightly as he pushes himself backward, staccato moans pressing out of his chest.   
Phil's breath is stolen by the sensation, by the closeness. He can't help but moan Dan's name with abandon, letting him choose the pace as he presses back into Phil's body. 

It feels like seconds before Dan's pulling away, rolling over and yanking Phil over him.   
Scrambling, Phil presses himself in again, pushing Dan's legs up when they lock behind him; hands bracing beside curly brown hair as he leans down to kiss him.   
"I love you." Dan breathes between kisses, already plump lips swelling with Phil's possessive biting. Phil moans, preening as he kisses Dan again, sucking hickeys into his neck and shoulders.   
"Yeah?" Phil laughs breathily, "Well, I'm going to marry you."  
Dan pupils were already blown wide, but those words swallow the last woody brown left; his head hits the comforter and his body spasms with pleasure. 

Phil drinks in the sight of his fiancé, drunk on the feeling, before taking Dan into his arms and pulling him until he sits in Phil's lap, driving him deeper inside. Dan's breathing is shallow, his head hanging backwards as he moans.   
"Breathe Dan." Phil instructs, hands running up his sides; "You're Hypoxic, focus."  
His breaths get deeper, and after a moment, he leans forward onto Phil and rocks himself down slowly. Phil's breathing catches at the pleasure as Dan fucks himself drunkenly.   
"Dan." he chokes, gripping him tightly, trying to slow him down, to ground him.   
It only spurs him on as he rocks harder, pushes further, deeper.   
Phil's losing his control, hips stuttering up to meet the movement.   
"Dan!"  
It's instantaneous, a deep gasping breath that fills Dan's entire chest as he shudders atop him, and Phil can feel his muscles tighten as a warm wetness drips into his lower stomach. His control breaks and Phil thrusts up hard, letting Dan's weight carry him down into the mattress where he can brace himself to fuck up into Dan's body, lavishing in the way he moans and pushes down, sensitive from orgasm. Dan's mouth latches onto the junction between Phil's neck and shoulder and he bites down hard, then sucks a dark hickey into Phil's pale skin. It pushes the older man over the edge and he wraps both arms around Dan and presses in hard, deep, releasing himself with a cry of Dan's name. 

Phil helps Dan regain the proper oxygen, then takes his hand and leads him into their bathroom, turning on the bath and letting the hot water run. Dan leans against the bathtub tiredly, grateful when Phil slides up next to him and presses his head into his shoulder. It takes a good amount of time for the bath to fill, and they spend it just touching, skin to skin. It's relaxing, fulfilling; and Phil almost ignores the bath until Dan reaches over and turns off the water.   
It's another second of tired silence before Dan swings a leg over the side of the tub and sinks down into the water, looking up at Phil expectantly.   
"In a second, I forgot something." Phil says softly, trotting back into the room and pulling his purchase out of his jeans pocket and carrying it back into the bathroom.   
"Dan."  
Brown eyes lock onto his as he stumbles down to one knee and pulls the small box out from behind his back, popping it open to reveal a black, titanium ring with a single diamond set into the band.   
"I know you already said yes but... I wanted to do it properly."  
Dan's halfway out of the bath in surprise;  
"Will you marry me, Daniel James Howell?"


	13. Moving Forward

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And it all comes to an end.

The ride back to the hotel was awkward, since Hanayu insisted he be driven separately.   
Currently, Mark was in the passenger seat of another black SUV, feeling like a child while Hanayu drives with a pinched expression. It isn't until they've pulled up to the hotel that they sigh, a harsh and disappointed sound.   
"You did well today, raising money for your charity. However; I feel the need to tell you that you've caused the need for a new stipulate in the contracts. I hadn't thought about sexual assault during any of the levels."  
Mark is stunned at the accusation before he recalls that, yes, he had been on video.   
"I have no right to call the authorities for what happened, it's been requested that I let the incident slide, but I'll make this perfectly clear: If we do business together again, under any circumstances, I will not tolerate that behavior again."  
Their incessant glaring has Mark scrambling out of the car, almost forgetting his camera bag in the process. Once his feet hit pavement, the SUV speeds out of the parking lot. 

Mark's glad for the riddance. 

Exhausted, he turns back toward the boutique hotel and shuffles into the lobby, nodding at the few fans who've stayed here for the event, taking a few pictures before scurrying upstairs. He's about to call Sean's cell number as the elevator door slides open with a chime, but the other man is sat in front of his door, head on his knees.   
"Sean?"  
Blue eyes snap up, and then he's is standing.   
"We need to talk." he says, and Mark nods, fishing his room key out of his bag and fumbling it into the doorknob. 

They stumble into the room and Mark throws his bag onto a decorative chair before flinging himself onto the bed and patting the spot next to him. Sean patters over to sit on the chair's armrest instead. Eyes downcast. Its silent both men try to address what had happened earlier.   
Sean is the first to speak;  
"I talked to Signe." he admits, trying to sound calm, "I... She told me I had to make a decision, and it's true. I do. It's you or her, and right now? I'm too fucked in the head to think straight."  
Mark nods solemnly as Jack continues;

"I've been avoiding this issue for years; it's a pain in my ass, loving you. At first I wanted to be your friend, I was a fan, it was so simple. When you started talking to me, including me, I realized that you were such a dynamic person. You're magnetic."  
Mark feels flattered.  
"I wanted to be someone that mattered to you; an equal, a contender! It wasn't until you started pushing me away that I realized the emotion I pinned to you was romantic."  
Mark notices that he has tears in his eyes and moves to wipe them away gently. At first, he flinches, but he leans into the touch when Mark's warm fingers meet a cold cheek.   
"I know I fucked up, Sean." Mark admits, and the words are tight; guilty, "Today, back then, it's been a series of Mark-brand fuckups."  
Sean can't help but snort.  
"But today, being with you? Touching you? Kissing you?" the last part makes both of their faces heat, "It's been the best thing in a long time. I've lost my way, I lost my inspiration, my drive. I was a mess and nothing was pulling me out of it; but you? This? This is the most functional I've been in months."  
"Give me a shot, Jack. Let me learn to love you."

* * * 

Sean ends up staying in Mark's room a little longer, talking about the day’s events. They talked about how easily they made it through the Five Nights at Freddie’s franchise, laughing heartily when Mark proclaims that he is still "THE KING! OF FIVE NIGHTS AT FREDDIES!”   
It wasn't until Sean shifted in his seat, trying to avoid talking about any other levels, that his shirt rides up his waist and he hears Mark suck in a breath.   
"Sean."  
Blue eyes flick over to Mark immediately, worried.   
"What's wrong?" he asks.   
Mark doesn't say anything; instead he's gripping Sean's arm and pulling him up out of the chair. He's struggling a little, a scared tremor in his voice as Mark presses his hands up under his shirt.   
"Mark! What--"  
"Look."

His eyes snap down to his chest and he's surprised to see massive bruises on his abdomen, evidence of Chica's massive hands on his body. He's caught up in them as Mark lets him go, his fingers running gently over the blue and purple skin.   
"I'm sorry." he whispers, eyes trained on battered skin, "I should have been faster, I should--"   
Sean shakes his head, pushing Mark away and pulling down his shirt.   
"No, it isn't your fault. I should have been helping you, I let my feelings fuck us both over."

* * * 

Mark's shakes his head. There’s a tension rising in the room, between them, around them. It's maddening, but Mark's attention is caught on how red Jack's face is getting. On how he hasn't moved away from Mark; on how his hands are caught on the hem of his shirt, pulling it slightly. How he won't look at him. 

Mark takes him by the chin; one arm wrapped securely around his waist and eyes locked on vibrant blue.   
Sean doesn't fight it, only reaches to grip the hand on his chin in question.   
They stare, silently; taking each other in.   
Still. 

Sean smells like wet clothes and chlorine and dust, and Mark can smell old coffee and sweat on himself. They need a shower, but he's too caught up in Sean's teeth biting into his plump lips.   
Mark wants to bite them instead; finds himself leaning in, still staring.   
"Can I?" he breathes, watching Sean's eyes flicker between his mouth and his eyes.   
He can feel his breath on his face as he nods: small and unsure.   
Mark leans forward and rests his mouth against Sean's, slowly. 

Below him, plush lips open and eyes flutter closed. It takes all his control not to pick the smaller man up and push him against the wall; ravish him.   
He doesn't. He knows he walks a thin line.   
"Mark?"   
Brown eyes focus on Sean's blue;   
"Let's..."  
Sean's eyes are still stuck on his lips, so Mark leans down and captures his again. Brings a hand to cup Sean's face as he licks open his mouth and deepens the kiss gently. Licks across his lips, bites down on them. He releases Sean after pressing one last peck to the corner of his mouth with a smile. It takes a second for Sean to focus and look Mark in the eye;   
"You were saying?" Mark asks, still standing too close. Sean tears his eyes away;  
"Let's shower. You smell."   
Mark chuckles at that, but steps away and lets Sean scurry out the door to his room. 

Mark is surprised when Sean returns; his bags and a few stray clothes piled messily in his arms. He looks guilty as he pushes past and sets his belongings down in the seat. He hesitates there as Mark shuts the door and locks it.   
"I..." His voice is a little strained; "I thought..."  
Mark presses himself against the smaller man's back; wraps his arms around the thin waist, and rests his head on his shoulder.   
"Sure. We can have a sleepover." Mark chuckles, pressing a kiss against Sean's pale neck before standing and walking back into the bathroom to start the shower. He doesn't bother closing the door, just strips off his clothing and steps into the shower once the water is warm enough. He isn't expecting Sean to leap in behind him and shut the glass door. 

It's a little awkward, but Mark can't complain when he catches sight of the smaller man.   
He's not tiny; his entire body is muscled; lean and strong. Mark's almost embarrassed that he isn't as muscle-headed as he once was.   
He doesn't realize he's staring until Sean smacks him across the head.   
"Sorry." Mark says, but he hasn't stopped.   
Sean's face is red.   
"Don't make me regret this, Fishbach." he grumbles, but it's clear that he's flattered. Mark smiles and steps out of the spray. 

They shuffle around the shower for a few minutes, Mark lathering his hair with cheap hotel brand shampoo and Sean standing still under the spray. He's beautiful and Mark can't help but admire him; reach for him. He takes Sean by the hand and pulls him into his chest, against his body. Smaller hands cover his as he looks up in question.   
Mark leans down, planting his lips against a wet shoulder before sliding up his neck; his hands coming around to grasp gently at Sean's chin, maneuvering him into an open mouthed kiss. It's sloppy, but it's satisfying. Sean whines into the space between their lips when Mark pulls away and he lets him turn around and press his wet body against Mark's own. Mark can't help but chuckle as he grabs Sean round the arms and pulls him up into another set of wet kisses. Slick skin slips together as they pull each other closer, Mark's larger body enveloping Sean's as he moves to back him up against the shower wall where the spray is weak. 

Mark reaches down and takes Sean's strong thighs in hand, hiking the smaller man into his arms and resting him against the wall to hold him there with his hips. Sean's ankles cross behind him and he takes the encouragement, moving lower to mouth at a protruding collarbone and travelling up to bite harsh kisses into the pale neck. Above him, Sean's hugging his head, resting fully against the wall as he lets the pleasure wash over him. It's sexy, the way his entire body writhes with the sensations, trembles and shakes as he breathes. He's mouthing at a perky nipple when Sean chokes himself with a moan, his legs moving erratically as he slides down the wall a little.   
"Sean?" Mark asks, checking to make sure the younger man was alright. He nods quickly, but his body jolts with the movement and Mark can feel his erection press against his thigh.   
It's a breathtaking kind of rush, to feel the hot, firm flesh against him. 

Mark eases him to stand on the floor of the shower, then leads him out to sit on the edge of the bath just beside them. Blue eyes are half-lidded and hazy with lust, but Sean manages to balance on the tub, keen on reconnecting their bodies. Mark obliges, kneeling down to place himself between toned legs, pushing his hands up over firm abs and sensitive sides. He can feel Sean, only half-hard against his chest, and he takes the smaller man in hand, smoothing his rough hands over the soft flesh in interest. It's warm and smooth, to Mark's surprise. Skin pale and soft around the crease of thigh, a dusting of hair that trails up to his bellybutton, well-trimmed but still there. It's sexy; in a weird way. Mark likes it, leaves a trail of open-mouthed kisses from his navel to his uncircumcised dick. 

Taking the organ into his mouth isn't unpleasant, only new, and Mark finds the reaction incentive enough to continue. Sean's moaning low in his throat, a feral sound based in his chest as his fingers grip Mark's hair tightly.   
Mark's got him by the hips, forcing him to lean back over the tub and relinquish control of his legs as he takes more and more into his mouth, rolling him on his tongue, sucking hard. Sean's a bit of a screamer, whining through his fingers as he attempts not to let the entire hotel hear him calling Mark's name with abandon.   
"Mark." he breathes, eyes wide and locked on his when he looks up, "Mark, please. I can't..."  
He pulls away from the smaller man with a wet pop, if only to watch Sean squirm, and closes his fingers around the base. He can feel the throbbing under his fingers as Sean's eyes roll back in a dry climax.   
"Not yet." Mark teases, scrambling back to the shower and emerging with the conditioner bottle. Sean's face pinches a little when he sees it and his legs close on instinct.   
"It's okay," Mark murmurs, pressing a kiss to Sean's shoulder, "If it hurts... If you don't like it; I'll stop."

Sean allows Mark to pry his knees apart and pull him down into his lap for another set of sloppy kisses, pressing closer as he straddles the larger man. He almost doesn't notice as Mark slides a single finger down his spine and between his cheeks. Sean gasps as his warm finger prods gently against the most sensitive part and Mark enjoys it.   
He pulls his fingers back, allowing Sean to take a breath, to recover; but then he's slicking his finger with sweet smelling liquid and pressing in fully this time.   
He invades Sean's body slowly and watches enraptured as Sean's back arches hard. Mark hooks a finger and feels the electric shock of pleasure as he shakes against his body.   
Sean screams with the pleasure of it, a broken, cut-off sound that has Mark pushing a second finger in along with the first, still rubbing.   
"Looks like I found your prostate." he says, proud of himself, as if it mattered to Sean, whose eyes had rolled back into his head at the stretch of two fingers.   
His entire body quivers when Mark ads a little more conditioner and presses a third finger into his body: muscles clenching down hard around them as Mark's grips the base of his erection again, choking him on another dry orgasm.

Mark lays him out on the floor and Sean doesn't even seem to care, looking pliant and fucked out as Mark plants himself between his legs. He presses his fingers in again, slowly.   
He cries out; oversensitive, overstimulated, and Mark pulls his fingers out again.   
This time he's lining himself up and pressing in.   
His erection is much larger than three of his fingers, and Sean's crying actual tears as he presses further and further into him. 

Mark doesn't move once his hips reach Sean's, he stays still and brushes the hair out of Sean's face, wipes the tears from his cheeks.   
Sean's gasping and crying, reaching out for Mark from the floor where he's stuck--  
"I love you." He whispers, still crying, "I love you. I love you. I love you."  
He repeats it, almost begging as Mark tries to kiss away his fears and calm him;   
"Sean;" he murmurs, leaning forward to look into clouded blue eyes, rocking himself into Sean's body in the process: against that bundle of nerves.   
Sean screams, his legs snapping up to wrap around Mark's waist tightly.   
"Oh god!" he cries, arching against the floor in pleasure; "Oh god, Mark! Please!"  
Mark rolls his hips again, gauging Sean's reaction. The other man shudders, his eyes roll back and he breathes out a moan that catches Mark off guard.   
"Please what?" Mark asks, drunk off the sight of Sean writhing beneath him, begging him.   
"Fuck me!" he cries, ankles tightening to force Mark in deeper; "Please!"  
He snaps his hips down hard, fucking Sean down into the cold floor harder than he had meant to, but Sean screams in pleasure and pushes himself back towards him, so Mark continues: fucks him hard enough to jostle him with each thrust, enough that his eyes haven't rolled back around; enough that his dick is standing at full attention without needing to be touched. 

It doesn't take long for Mark to reach his breaking point, wrapping his hand around the younger man and moving in time with his thrusts. The vein's throb under the pads of his fingers. Sean's panting his name, moaning it every time Mark thrusts inside.   
He's drooling onto the pristine white floors and choking on his own fluids as Mark presses in hard, abusing his prostate.   
Sean comes; hard.   
His body bows, back arching off the floor, nipples hardening and goose bumps erupting over his entire body.   
The sight of it pulls Mark over the edge as well, pulling himself out of Sean and dripping down into his own hand. It takes a minute for Mark to recover, but then he's washing his hand and running a bath, stepping back into the shower to rinse and lather himself in soap while Sean stares blankly at the ceiling. 

"Are you okay?" Mark asks, stepping out of the shower to lift Sean from the floor and carry him to the bath, allowing the younger man to slip into the warm water himself.   
"I think I died." Sean croaks, legs spreading out in the large tub.   
Mark chuckles lightly and slides down into the bath behind him.


End file.
